ACT 30: Priceless
by Galaxy1001D
Summary: Roger Smith faces a personal crisis and finds Dorothy Wayneright in the arms of another man. THE BIG O: SEASON THREE
1. Roger's Mentor

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

_Opening theme song by _Rui Nagai

THE BIG O:

ACT 30: PRICELESS

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Cast in the name of God!_

**Negotiator**

_Ye not the guilty!_

**Android**

_We have come to terms!_

**Butler**

_Big-O!_

**Officer**

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! Big-O!_

_Big-O!_

_Big-O! Big-O! -O! -O! Big-O!_

_Chapter One: Roger's Mentor_

_My name is Roger Smith, I perform a necessary job here in the city of Amnesia_. _Over forty years ago every human and every robot lost all information on what had happened prior. But humans are adaptable creatures. If they're smart enough to figure out how to get electricity, they can still have a civilization. The only ones who regret this loss of memory are the city's elderly._

"Danny Kirk," said the voice on the telephone.

"Danny Kirk is not here," The slender teenage girl called R Dorothy Wayneright replied. "You must have the wrong number."

"No, _I'm_ Danny Kirk," the voice said with mild amusement. "I know that's hard to believe, but it's really me! I'm calling to see Roger Smith. If I know him he's sleeping his life away instead of seizing the day. Tell him that I'll be dropping by in the next half hour will you?"

"Very well," the pale girl with the red pageboy haircut acknowledged. "I shall inform him of your arrival."

* * *

Sleeping in was one of the few pleasures that Roger Smith indulged in, aside of a good meal. The man named Roger Smith ran his life by a number of rules designed to keep his life in order and enforce self-discipline. The time that he got up was the sole exception, or at least the only exception he admitted to. Left to his own, he could get up at six o'clock in the morning or six in the evening. It all depended on how he felt that day.

For the past year or so, it hadn't been left to him. Since R Dorothy Wayneright had come to live him she had been waking him up with frightening regularity, her preferred method was playing a sprightly piece of classical music from the piano in the parlor outside his bedroom. The particular tune had just the right combination of liveliness and audacity combined with the somber elegance that Roger Smith preferred for his home.

"Unh, have a heart won't you?" A bedraggled Roger Smith groaned as he staggered out the door in his pajamas carrying a pillow. "I know that you're an android, Dorothy but surely you can't be so heartless…"

"You have a visitor," Dorothy interrupted as she looked up from the piano. "A Daniel Kirk. From the sounds of things you two have met before."

"Danny Kirk?" Roger smiled. "Well I'll be! Thanks for waking me up, Dorothy. I better go make myself presentable."

Dorothy frowned as her eyes became narrow slits. As an android she was able to maintain a neutral expression whether being granted her fondest wish or being lit on fire, so why was she expressing an emotion now? Was she trying to be 'more normal' so she could fit in?

* * *

"Daniel Kirk to see you sir," the tall elderly butler named Norman Burg announced when Roger had finished breakfast.

"Great!" Roger smiled. "Show him in, will you?"

"That's impossible, because I'm already here!" a stocky fireplug of a man announced as he strode into the room. "Roger!" he extended his hand.

"Danny!" Roger seized the shorter man's hand and shook it as if he was pumping for oil.

Dorothy Wayneright took the opportunity to compare the two men. Roger Smith was young, apparently in his mid-twenties. His white shirt was nearly hidden by the double breasted polo jacket he wore, but his black dress slacks and matching shoes were visible. A black tie bisected by a gray stripe was knotted around his throat. Roger's broad shoulders and trim waist indicated both strength and agility. His jet-black hair, strong jaw and high cheekbones on his boyish face made him the definition of 'tall, dark, and handsome'.

Danny Kirk was an older man but it was hard to tell how old he was. Grey peppered his rust colored closely cropped hair and his red face wore its wrinkles well. Yet in spite of his advanced age and his portly build he was still a handsome man. He wore a blue business suit in the same style as Roger Smith.

"How's it been, Roger?" Danny clapped him on the shoulder. "I hear you took the Paradigm Corporation for all it was worth!"

"They deserved it," Roger laughed. "I squeezed every nickel I could out of them!"

"That's my boy!" Danny gushed. He seemed to notice Dorothy Wayneright for the first time. "Why Roger, who is this lovely young thing? Where have you been keepin' her you sly dog you?"

"I assure you, it's nothing like that," Roger blushed. "Dorothy Wayneright, I'd like you to meet an old friend of mine."

"Danny Kirk," Danny seized her hand and put it to his lips. "Paradigm City's top negotiator! At your service. _Any_ service." He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"I thought Roger Smith was Paradigm City's top negotiator," Dorothy deadpanned.

"Ah, you only think that because I trained him so well," Danny retorted. "In the past forty years, no negotiator has ever held a candle to Danny Kirk!"

"I see," Dorothy replied in a bored tone.

"Never failed a negotiation yet!" Danny bragged. "In my entire forty year career I've always found a way to come to terms!"

"Always?" Dorothy raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"Always," Danny smiled smugly. "Danny Kirk! It's a famous name. I'll say it again so you don't forget it!"

"I shall try not to," Dorothy said condescendingly, "but I find that very hard to believe. No one can succeed _every_ time."

"I can," Danny insisted. "That's why you should remember my name. Danny Kirk! Remember it!"

"It's true, Dorothy," Roger nodded. "I've never known him to fail to bring two parties together."

"Never?"

"Never," Roger shook his head and smiled. "Of course, he picks his negotiations a lot more carefully than I do."

"Never let a challenge get in the way of a perfect record!" Danny bragged. "That's Danny Crane's Rule Number One!"

"So you also have rules then?" Dorothy asked. "Is this an occupational hazard of negotiators or…"

"You don't understand, Dorothy," Roger interrupted. "Danny Kirk is my mentor. He's the one that got me into negotiations in the first place."

"When I met this kid he was a lieutenant in the military police," Danny pointed his thumb in Roger's direction. "I was called in to settle a hostage negotiation and they put the kid here on phone until I arrived. I got there just in time to hear him convince the gunmen to release their hostages. I couldn't believe it. It was amazing! Of course _I_ had to convince them to actually give themselves up, but Roger had already done all the work for me. Afterwards I told him to stop wasting his time as a Paradigm lapdog and let me train him in the fine art of negotiation."

"There are other negotiators in the city then?" Dorothy asked skeptically. "I thought that Roger was the only one."

"Of course there's more than one negotiator," Roger teased. "Otherwise the reputation of Paradigm City's top negotiator wouldn't mean anything, would it?"

"No, it wouldn't," Dorothy said dryly.

"Ooh!" Danny punched himself in the chest. "She got you, Roger! She got you! There's no way I'm going to match wits with this lady sober. Alfred!" he shouted to the doorway where Norman Burg was standing. "Get me and the lady a drink! Gin and tonic! Unless you'd rather have something different…?" he looked quizzically in Dorothy's direction.

"I don't drink," Dorothy told him.

"You don't?" Danny gasped in disbelief. "Roger, you pervert! This girl is underage! Do you want to get arrested? Do you want to get _me_ arrested?"

"Danny, R Dorothy is an android," Roger explained in exasperation.

"Little cutie-pie there?" Danny pointed at Dorothy. "You're kidding! I thought that she just had an artificial hand or something."

"My entire body is artificial," Dorothy explained, "but I can eat and drink a little for decorum's sake."

"Can you do… anything else?" Danny asked gleefully.

"Danny behave yourself," Roger scolded. "R Dorothy is my guest!"

"Keeping her for yourself huh?" Danny shrugged. "Well I don't blame you. I wouldn't share this cute little thing either! Danny Kirk!" he shouted at Dorothy. "Remember that name in case things don't work out here."

"The name will be difficult to forget," Dorothy assured him dryly.

"So what brings you over here?" Roger asked. "Norman, put some chairs out on the patio. Danny you look great," he said to his older friend.

"You too, Roger," Danny smiled. "You haven't aged a day since I met you!"

"Here is your gin and tonic, sir," Norman handed Danny a full tumbler. "And in the future, my name is Norman, Mister Kirk."

"Norman?" Danny seemed confused. "What the devil are you talking about? What did I call you?"

"You called me 'Alfred' again, sir." Norman fiddled with his moustache.

"I did?" Danny blinked. "Sorry about that, my mind was wandering. Won't happen again Alfred."

"I'm sure it won't sir," Norman groaned. Norman Burg was a tall elderly man whose thin white hair clashed with his bushy eyebrows and full mustache. The black eyepatch concealing his left eyesocket could make him appear intimidating at first glance, but the elderly butler's kind and genial nature quickly dispelled such a notion. Strangely, Norman appeared rather intimidating right _now_ though.

"So Danny, what brings you to my door?" Roger asked conversationally. "I'd think that after all that's happened you'd have your hands full with all those hotel deals."

"Hotel deals?" Dorothy repeated.

"That's right," Danny nodded. "In my old age I've confined myself to getting people better deals on hotel rates. With those giant robots leaving people homeless I'm in big demand! I perform a much needed job here in Paradigm City. If it wasn't for me, entire families would be on the street!"

"Can your clients afford you?" Dorothy asked.

"I don't charge them that much," Danny shrugged. "To be honest, I've been so successful that I could have retired years ago. I only negotiate now to pay for my liquor… and a little recreation," he winked.

"It's true," Roger nodded. "I'm surprised you're still working."

"I'll keep working as long as people still need me," Danny retorted, suddenly becoming serious. "At my age, sometimes it's important to feel needed."

"Dorothy, you don't mind if Danny and I borrow the patio do you?" Roger smiled politely, but his eyes were alert.

"Not at all," Dorothy replied stiffly, "I have chores to do anyhow."

"Thank you," Roger nodded as he and his old friend left the room.

* * *

At the top of the white tower that was Roger's home was a rooftop patio, decorated with marble columns. Norman was placing two lawn chairs near the balcony with a little table in between that held two bourbons on the rocks. He nodded to Roger and Danny before he left.

"Now out with it, Danny, what are you doing here?" the young negotiator asked.

"That's it?" the older and shorter Kirk snorted. "No foreplay? No dinner and dancing first? You sound like a P.I. Roger, not a negotiator."

"I guess I've taken too many investigation jobs," Roger shrugged as he sat in the left lawn chair. "I've gotten so used to dealing with tough guys and lowlifes that sometimes I forget how to treat my friends. But are you ducking the question?"

"Hell yes," Danny snorted as he sat in the right chair. "You bet your life I'm ducking the question. You got to feel things out before you close the deal, Roger. You just can't ask them to make you an offer. That's not how it's done."

"It is if you're not getting any younger," Roger chided. "If I want to close the deal, I need to know what the other party wants. Sometimes you need to _ask_."

"Point taken," Danny sighed as he picked up a glass of bourbon. "I need a favor, Roger. I'm really stuck. It's hard to ask you to do this."

"It's okay, Danny," Roger assured him. "Even the great Danny Kirk needs help sometimes. You wouldn't believe how many times the great Roger Smith has to ask for a favor. Go ahead, what is it?"

"You remember that conversation we had a while back?" Danny asked him. "The one on the balcony?"

"We've had a lot of talks out on the balcony," Roger shrugged. "You'll have to be more specific."

"It was the one about mortality," Danny shifted in his chair uncomfortably. "Do you remember when we asked each other how we wanted to go out?"

Roger downed his drink in one long gulp. "It's coming back to me."

"Good," Danny nodded. "Then you know what I want."

"Nothing doing, Danny, I'm not going to do it," Roger grunted.

"Come on, Roger," Danny whined. "You promised!"

"I only promised just to make the conversation end," Roger snorted. "You know that I never intended to go through with it for one minute!"

"A deal's a deal," Danny smiled mischievously. "Sometimes you have to wear down the other party to close the deal."

"Come on, Danny, knock it off," Roger grunted.

"A deal's a deal, Roger," Danny insisted. "When the time comes, you promised to shoot me! Well the time is now!"

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Danny's Dilemma _


	2. Danny's Dilemma

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Two: Danny's Dilemma_

"We've been over this," Roger squirmed in his lawn chair. "I'm not going to shoot you, Danny."

"Wuss," his mentor snorted.

"Come on, Danny, you're like a father to me," Roger grunted.

"Namby-pamby," Danny grumbled.

"How could you even _put_ me in this position?" Roger groaned.

"Nancy-boy," Danny mocked.

"Come on, Danny," Roger leaned forward and clasped his hands nervously. "I haven't been able to even hold a gun since the last time you asked me to shoot you."

"You haven't?" Danny blinked. "But I've heard about you. Your adventures. How have you managed to stay alive if you're not packing?"

"Quick reflexes," Roger grunted.

"Here," Danny pulled a large pistol out of his jacket. "If you need protection, you can use mine. Have it. I've got lots of others at home…"

"Put it away, Danny," Roger moaned.

"Okay, have it your own way," Danny sulked. There was an awkward pause. "Roger I'm serious. I know I asked you to shoot me when the time came. I think the time is now."

"What makes you say that?" grunted an indignant Roger Smith.

"I'm losing my memory," Danny said seriously.

"What?"

"I'm losing my memory," Danny repeated. "Again. It's happening again. I've been bluffing my way through conversations. I forget the names of the people I'm talking to. It's getting worse!"

"At your age you've got more to remember than most people," Roger shrugged. "So you forget a few things, big deal."

"No it's more than that," Danny shook his head. "I've had myself checked out. I'm going senile. It's incurable, degenerative, and terminal. I'm in the early stages now, but it's only going to get worse as time goes on. I don't want to go out that way. I want you to shoot me."

"Can't you just inhale carbon monoxide or something?" Roger asked sarcastically. "Why are you dragging _me_ into this?"

"Commit suicide?" Danny snorted. "Danny Kirk? Take the coward's way out? Not in this life! That's not the way I want my legacy to read! I want them to say that Danny Kirk died with his boots on! He went out with a pistol in his hand, taking a bullet from the only one who could beat him, the man he trained to replace him!"

"Couldn't you just try to stop some bank robbers?" Roger shook his head. "Take on Jason Beck or some mugger or something? Why do _I_ have to be the one to shoot you?"

"I've already shot a mugger," Danny shrugged. "Two of them, to be exact. It was self-defense, but let's be honest, I should never have been walking alone that late at night in the first place. The point is, Roger that I want to go out with some dignity. I want to go out with style! I want my career to end with the élan and panache it always had!"

"I'd rather _my_ life didn't end with me in the electric chair," Roger grunted.

"Oh don't worry about it, Roger, I've got it all figured out!" Danny assured him. "It will be a duel. Shootout at high noon. A clear cut case of self-defense with plenty of witnesses. The courts will only give you a slap on the wrist, and that's only if you don't have a gun permit. It will be fine. You'll land on your feet."

"Why can't you just let the disease take its course?" Roger shouted. "They might find a way to treat it…"

"Don't give me that Roger!" Danny shouted back. "There _is_ no way to treat it, and you know it! I'm losing my mind, and I'd like to go out while I still have some marbles left! You have no idea what it was like to wake up forty years ago with no recollection of who you are or what you're doing here! You don't know what it's like to stare into the eyes of strangers and wonder if you're supposed to know them. Of wondering who you are and what you've done! It wasn't so bad in the old days I guess. _Everybody_ was like that! But I'm not going to be the only one, Roger! I'm not going to be one of those senile old fossils you can't have a conversation with! That's not Danny Kirk and it never will be!"

"Danny, you're older than you look," Roger told him. "You must have been in your thirties when the amnesia hit. What makes you think you're going to live long enough to get to that point anyhow? You'll probably have a heart attack before it gets that far!"

"Me?" a redfaced Danny protested. "Danny Kirk? Have a heart attack? _Everybody_ has a heart attack, Roger! If you're too chicken to shoot me, you could at least suggest an automobile accident. Everybody has those too, but at least there's some action in it. Tires squealing and glass breaking and all that. But a _heart attack_? Give me a break! I told you that when the time comes, I want you to shoot me. Well the time _has_ come damn it! I've had a long successful life and I want it to end with a bang!"

"Is there any way we could steer the conversation away from shooting you?" Roger asked wearily.

"You could shoot me," Danny nodded at the pistol he left on the little table.

"Besides that," Roger sighed.

"Who's laughing now, Mister 'Let's get to the point while we're still young'?" Danny sneered. "Come on, Roger, I haven't got all day! Are you going to shoot me or aren't you?"

"Pass," Roger grunted.

"Come on, we could do it right now," Danny protested. "We'll call your robot girlfriend out here. She can record the whole thing. We pull out our guns and you get your shot off before me."

"_Why_ are we shooting at each other?" Roger groaned.

"You slept with the girl I love," Danny replied without missing a beat. "I'd rather it was the other way around, but you'd never go for it. Besides, this way I'm the aggressor, you were just defending yourself."

"No one will believe that," Roger sighed.

"Yes, they will," Danny nodded. "I'll get on the phone. I'll call Shirley over right now. She can spend the night. Tomorrow I'll come over and we'll have it out!"

"Thanks for dropping by, Danny," Roger sighed as he got up from his lawn chair and walked away. "Don't be a stranger."

"Hey don't blow me off!" Danny leaped from his chair and pulled a second pistol from his vest. "Don't you turn your back on Danny Kirk! Pick up that gun, Roger! Pick it up or I'll blow your brains out!"

"You won't shoot me, Danny," Roger said as he paused by the doorway. "I'm like a son to you."

"Yeah, but sooner or later I'll forget that," Danny protested as he lowered his gun. "Come on, Roger, sooner or later I'll forget the most important things in my life. The things that make Danny Kirk, Danny Kirk! You can't let me lose all that."

"Father Time is cruel to us all," Roger shrugged as he leaned against the doorway. "He's somebody that no one can negotiate with."

"He's not cruel to you, you haven't aged a day," Danny grunted.

"Tell you what, Danny, I'll make sure you're not alone," Roger offered. "I'll spend more time with you, become familiar with all your affairs. That way nobody has to know that…"

"I don't need your pity," Danny scowled as he walked to the door. "You wanted me to leave, Roger. You got it; I'm leaving!"

"You could at least take that hand-cannon with you on your way out!" Roger protested as the stouter man brushed past.

"No you keep it!" Danny called back over his shoulder. "It's a reminder of your obligation! A reminder that a negotiator has to keep his word!"

"Dammit!" Roger grumbled. His day wasn't starting well at all.

* * *

Later, when Dorothy joined him on the balcony he still couldn't get it out of his mind. "Dorothy, when I get old, remind me never to put you on the spot like that."

"Like what, Roger?" the android asked ingeniously.

"Remind me never to ask you to shoot me," Roger grunted.

"Why would you ask me to do that?" Dorothy prodded.

"Human beings wear out and break down just like machines do Dorothy," Roger sighed. "And when a human being's life starts to end it isn't pretty."

"I don't see how it would be," Dorothy replied.

"No, you don't understand," Roger sighed. "When a human being starts to wear out, he loses his dignity. He loses his pride. His joints ache, he gets cranky. He forgets things, has to bluff his way through conversations and finally just withdraws into himself. Sooner or later he can't even control his bowel movements, it's horrible! It's a terrible way for a man to write the closing chapter on his life."

"Is that why you take so many risks, then?" Dorothy asked him. "Are you afraid to grow old, Roger Smith?"

"No I'm not afraid to grow old!" Roger laughed bitterly.

"Yes you are," Dorothy insisted. "You're terrified. You don't want the humiliation of losing all that you are."

"What are you talking about?" cried an overly defensive Roger. "I've got years and years! I'm not afraid of old age!"

"Perhaps you did not explain it clearly," Dorothy backpedaled coldly.

"The point is that there's a lot about the human body that we're ashamed of!" Roger explained, perhaps more passionately then he intended. "There's a reason why we wear clothing, Dorothy Wayneright! The biological processes of the human body are pretty disgusting when you come right down to it and when those processes go wrong the whole thing is just grotesque! Let the mind fail at the same time and you've got…"

"I understand," Dorothy interrupted quietly. "There is no need to raise your voice Roger Smith."

"How could _you_ possibly understand?" Roger sneered. "_You're_ an android! If you can find people with the technical know-how to keep you in shape you could theoretically live forever! You have no idea what Danny's going through! You can't possibly understand!"

"I understand what it is like to have things about my body that I don't want known," Dorothy replied.

That stopped Roger's rant in its tracks. Dorothy was ashamed of her body? Was that the reason she didn't want Roger studying her blueprints? He paused to collect himself. If he could think clearly he might find out why.

"What is there about _your_ body that you could possibly be ashamed of?" Roger's question was blunter than he intended. He still hadn't calmed down from the emotional turmoil that Danny had put him through. "Not to flatter you Dorothy, but your body is _extremely_ well built. Your exterior is _very _pleasing to the eye and your interior is so clean and sanitary that you could attend open heart surgery and not have to wear a surgical mask. What is it about_ your _body that could possibly bother you?"

"Perhaps I've been designed to be more human than you know, Roger Smith," Dorothy said enigmatically.

"Really?" Roger smiled eagerly. "In what way?" Mentally, he kicked himself. He had always wanted to know just _how_ human Dorothy really was. He suspected that deep down, he wasn't that different than Danny Kirk.

"I was not aware that it was any of your business, Roger Smith," Dorothy said coldly.

Roger chuckled to himself as he shook his head. "You're right, Dorothy," he admitted. "It isn't any of my business. But you can't blame me for being curious." When Dorothy's cold look of disgust didn't waiver, he added. "But you _shouldn't _blame me for being curious," He corrected. "Not after you teased me with that mysterious statement."

"I thought that you, of all people, were a gentleman," Dorothy sparred. "Is it becoming of a gentleman to ask a lady questions about how her body works, Roger Smith?"

"No of course not, Dorothy Wayneright," Roger gave an embarrassed laugh. "Forgive my human curiosity. As you say, it's none of my business."

"Thank you, Roger," Dorothy gave a polite nod. "The point that I was trying to make is that I realize that many people are afraid to grow old. I do not believe that when I wear out it will be any more dignified."

"Now you know why I fought so hard to get a hold of your blueprints, Dorothy," Roger sighed. "I don't want that to happen to you. I know it's selfish, but I want to make sure you don't have to go through that, at least not in my lifetime. I'll be able to cope with my own body falling apart if I can keep yours in perfect working order."

"What happened to make you think like this, Roger?" Dorothy asked with a hint of concern. "You never thought like that before."

"I don't know," Roger sighed. "I guess it was after Beck stole your memory drive. Seeing you lying there like a dead body with that gap in your head tore me up inside. I felt so helpless. If I was your creator I'd know what to do, but I was just some dumb pretty boy who drives a giant robot without the faintest idea of how it works! I swore that if we ever got you back together I'd become an expert in robotics and keep you in tip-top shape. You'd never suffer from a stiff joint, let alone a malfunction on my watch. I'm sorry Dorothy. It's not fair for me to obsess on you like this."

"Why do _you_ have to do it, Roger?" Dorothy asked. "Wouldn't Norman be more qualified?"

"Uh…" Roger scratched the back of his neck and pulled at his collar. "No offense, Dorothy, but Norman isn't getting any younger. What happens when he can't take care of you anymore? We'd be back at square one wouldn't we?"

"Is Norman sick?" Dorothy became alert. Was that concern in her voice?

"Well, he isn't getting any younger," Roger repeated. "He's getting pretty old. Human beings don't last forever, Dorothy. I guess nothing does."

"I have things to do," Dorothy said stiffly as she turned to walk back inside the house.

"Yeah, I suppose you do," Roger mumbled as he leaned on the railing of the balcony and watched the sun set.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Roger's Mirror_


	3. Roger's Mirror

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Three: Roger's Mirror_

Inside, the elderly butler was operating an interior crane to replace the damaged armor on the massive robot known as Big O.

"Norman, you should really be taking it easy," Dorothy attempted a feminine scold, but thanks to her monotone, didn't quite manage it.

"Believe me, my dear, now that I have you to assist me I am," Norman assured her. "But is there some reason I shouldn't strain myself?"

"All this work must be exhausting," Dorothy pointed out.

"Ah, but now that you are here, I'm only bearing half the load," the butler retorted. "Thanks to you I can manage." He paused to study the android more closely. "Is something… wrong, Miss Dorothy?"

"No," she said too quickly, too quickly for Dorothy Wayneright at least.

"Does this have anything to do with Mister Kirk's visit?" Norman asked gently.

"Yes," Dorothy admitted. "Daniel Kirk seems to have aged very well compared to my father, and yet he is dying. He wants Roger to put him out of his misery. Roger doesn't want to act the same way when it's his turn."

"And now you're worried about me," Norman nodded with sage understanding.

"Yes," Dorothy nodded. "When he died, my father was quite old. He was very frail. His life was at its end and he was in constant pain."

"And yet even in his weakened state he managed to create someone as wonderful as you," Norman retorted gently. "It appears that it's impossible to determine exactly when someone is too old to contribute. Perhaps this 'being put out of your misery' thing is just a silly fad."

"Norman…" Dorothy managed to instill a subtle whine into her voice. She was getting better at expressing herself.

"Don't worry about me, Miss Dorothy," the butler said as an apology. "I've lived a full life filled with more purpose than most people have. The important thing is you and how you live _your_ life."

"Why Norman?" the girl asked him. "Why am I so important?"

"Well, Dorothy, I don't like to talk about this," the butler sighed, "but you're right; I _am_ getting on in years. Oh don't get me wrong," he held up a hand in a halting gesture. "I'm in fine health. Heart's strong. Hands don't shake. I should last for years, it's just that…"

"What, Norman?" Dorothy gently prodded.

"At my age you start to wonder, 'just how _many_ years?'. What if someday, _my_ mind starts going?" He shuddered. "I lost my memory forty years ago; I should hate to do that again. Master Roger is young. God willing, he could continue to pilot the Big O for decades, but what if Big O malfunctions because I forgot something? Forgetting little things is understandable if I'm dusting the furniture or serving drinks, but neglecting the proper maintenance of a megadeus could cost Master Roger his life!"

"Norman…" Was that sympathy in the android's voice?

"Someday I'll be too old to take proper care of Big O's systems," Norman sighed. "I'll need a successor, someone who can take over my duties. When it's time to shake off this mortal coil Master Roger will need someone he can trust more than ever." He looked at Dorothy sternly with his good eye. "Someone who won't be breaking down like an old jalopy. Someone who could be kept in tip-top shape as long as she could manufacture her own replacement parts. Someone like you."

"Norman, I don't understand," the android protested.

He leaned forward and whispered, "Dorothy, when I told Master Roger that a daughter's purpose is to be loved, that's not her only purpose."

"It's not?" the girl asked.

"No, children are our way of achieving immortality," the old man explained. "By being assured of a successor, I have one less reason to fear death."

"I see," she said quietly.

"That's why I support Master Roger's plan and teach the two of you robotics," Norman scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Although, _you_ my dear, should probably study medicine as well. When I am gone Master Roger will likely have reached an age where _he_ will need regular care and maintenance to keep in fighting trim…"

"Norman, I don't _want_ Roger to know how my body works," Dorothy protested.

"I understand," the butler nodded. "If you must know, there are plenty of embarrassing things about the _human_ body…"

"It's more than that," Dorothy insisted. "I want to be thought of as a person, and not as a thing. If he understands how I work he may see me as a mere object."

"Alas my dear, so many women are treated like objects in this cruel world," Norman shook his head sadly, "but I don't think that Master Roger will treat _you_ as one."

* * *

_Memories. They can seem so important. They guide us, but do they control us? What happens when a man knows he's going to lose his memories? What does a man do when he realizes his experiences may be taken from him? Does he rejoice at the freedom that comes from ignorance or does he resent the loss of the things that just might define who he is? But what if the memories that define him are mistaken? Who is he then?_

"Master Roger, do you have a moment?" Norman asked him.

"Why? Is it lunch time already?" Roger looked up from the hourglass he was assembling on his desk.

"Nearly so, sir, although I didn't prepare it," Norman admitted uncomfortably. "Miss Dorothy did. She also mopped the floors and cleaned the toilets. She dusted the top floor as well."

"So what's wrong?" Roger shrugged. "I thought that she wanted to earn her keep around here."

"I believe that she is flying through the chores to make sure that I won't have to do them," Norman said gravely.

"Why would she—? Oh I get it," Roger nodded. "I see where this is going. She's afraid that the chores are too much of a strain on the old gentleman is that it?"

"It would seem so," Norman shrugged. "Miss Dorothy is always so serious, Master Roger. It doesn't seem fair for her spend her youth worrying about an old codger like me."

"I agree," the negotiator nodded. "If we're lucky, there will be plenty of time for that later, when we really _will_ need her help. She doesn't have to slave away for us frail old humans right now. But what do we do about it?"

"Perhaps if you could interest her in activities enjoyed by the young, sir?" Norman offered carefully.

"Norman, if I didn't know better I'd say that you were trying to play matchmaker," Roger teased. "You never tried to hook me up with any of the other women I brought home."

"Forgive an old man's impertinence, but I've always held the bar up rather high," the old man smiled guiltily. "It just wouldn't _do_ to encourage you to get involved with a woman who wasn't right for you. I'm afraid that I've mistaken old age for knowledge and experience, a common error for my age bracket," Norman continued airily. "I shall make an effort to see that it doesn't happen again."

"At least you're looking out for me," Roger grunted as looked away. "All Danny Kirk is doing is thinking of himself."

"The end _is_ a rather personal thing," Norman nodded sagely. "It is easy to become self-absorbed with it. Did he ask you to shoot him again today sir?"

"Worse," Roger grunted. "He said that it was time. No more promising for the distant future. He wants me to do it now."

"Oh dear," Norman nodded. "Has he considered the effect it will have on you?"

"He seems to think I'm indestructible," Roger grunted. "That I could just shoot him and go on living. How could I live with myself knowing what I had done?"

"Apparently he doesn't see that you're doing him an injury and doesn't see what you'd feel guilty for," Norman shrugged.

"He's never served in the military police," Roger shook his head. "He's never had to take a man's life in the line of duty and see his face as he dies right before your eyes! That look when he realizes it's over… and then his strength leaves him," he shuddered. "I couldn't do that to Danny."

"Perhaps you could use dynamite?" Norman offered. When he met Roger's intimidating scowl the elderly butler quickly backpedalled. "My apologies, Master Roger. I was merely trying to point out the folly of letting an old man's obsessions rule you. You're young, but you won't be young forever. It wouldn't hurt Mister Kirk or myself if you _enjoy_ your youth for a little bit."

Roger rose from his desk to look at a picture of himself with his old squad. That photograph had been taken over a decade ago and yet Roger Smith hadn't aged a day. It was true. Roger hadn't aged a day.

Thinking back, he realized that most of his friends appeared to be older than him. Before Dorothy had entered his life he had earned the reputation as a ladies man by entertaining girls that were a decade younger than him, _yet they didn't appear to be younger than him, they appeared to be the same age_. What had the street musician Oliver said when they visited his apartment last Heaven's Day? '_You _make a cute couple.' Oliver actually thought that Roger Smith and a teenage girl 'made a cute couple'! Roger and a teenage girl! What was _wrong _with Oliver?

Roger strode down the hall and entered the bathroom. He studied himself in the mirror. Did he _really_ look that much older than Dorothy? Maybe ten years older at the most. The young negotiator let out a sigh. He could see where anyone could draw the conclusion that he and Dorothy Wayneright were together. To the naked eye, the age difference was nowhere as great as Roger imagined.

Roger made faces at the mirror, attempting to create creases on his skin. He pulled at his face and alternatively squished and stretched his features. Sure enough, his face bounced back into the handsome young man he expected to see. He had always been proud of his boyish good looks before. Now he was getting suspicious, perhaps even concerned.

Roger pulled at his dark mane, searching for a grey hair. Nope. Everything coal black, at least in the front. He removed his jacket and his shirt, letting his suspenders dangle down at his pants. He flexed his naked chest and his arms, instinctively smiling at the sight of the toned and athletic beefcake who smiled back at him.

His smile disappeared when he wondered how he was able to maintain such a chiseled and muscular body. Norman kept him well fed. It was true that he could burn a lot of calories on his adventures but why didn't any of that fine food become fat? He flexed his abdominal muscles for emphasis. His stomach was toned and flat, with the pattern of muscles known as the 'six pack' visible. How was that possible? Roger had a healthy appetite, and seldom missed a meal. What gives?

Roger got dressed and headed to the car. "Norman, I'm going out," he said as he passed the butler in the hall.

"I see," Norman said carefully as Roger entered the elevator. "Where to, if I might ask sir?"

"I'm going to have lunch with an old friend," Roger replied as he just the gate and started the elevator. "I just want to check something. I'll let you know if I'm going to be late for dinner."

"Very good sir," Norman bowed.

"Norman, tell Roger that lunch is ready," Dorothy said as she entered the hall. She had added a white apron to her reddish black outfit.

"I'm afraid that Master Roger had to go leave unexpectedly," Norman apologized, "but I would be happy to share it with you if you like."

The shadows in the hallway made Dorothy's neutral expression look like a frown.

* * *

_Memories. Such unreliable guides that try to define us. But what if they're mistaken? Where will they take us? The signposts of the past that try to guide us to our future could be outdated or completely false. How can a man find his way when the past might be lying to him?_

"What brings _you_ here?" Dastun asked suspiciously from behind his desk. "Did somebody die or is there something you need to know?"

"I just wanted to go out to lunch with an old friend," Roger shrugged innocently. "I didn't mean to make a big deal out of it."

"Fine but you're paying," Dastun growled as he got up and put on his hat. "Where to? We're not going to that bar that your buddy Instro owns are we? I put in a full day. I need _real_ food."

"How 'bout that bistro down the street?" Roger suggested. "It's in walking distance, and we can talk on the way."

* * *

Soon they were sitting in the bistro eating out of bowls of soup. "Okay, spill," Dastun sighed. "You've been hemming and hawing the whole way. What's up?"

"How long have we known each other, Dan?" Roger asked.

"Years," Dastun shrugged. "What's up? You gonna ask for a favor that's gonna end my career or something?"

"No it's nothing like that," Roger shook his head indignantly. "I just want to know: How long have we known each other? _Exactly_ how long?"

"I don't know," Dastun rolled his eyes at the ceiling. "Maybe thirteen years or so. I was your C.O. after you got out of Officer's Candidate School."

"Have I aged a day since you met me?" Roger asked pointblank. "Have you noticed any changes? Am I getting any older as time goes on?"

"What?" Dastun frowned. "You worried that you're slowing down or something? Don't be ridiculous. You look just as young as the day I met you. What happened? Did you find a grey hair or something?"

"Dastun, do I look _exactly_ the same as I did thirteen years ago?" Roger asked pointedly. "_Exactly_?"

"Sure, I guess," Dastun's voice trailed off. "What's going on? What is this about?"

"Is it true?" Roger asked, worry in his voice. "Do I really look _exactly_ like I did the day we met? Have I gotten _any_ older at all? Gained or lost weight or anything?"

"No, you look fine," Dastun said, concern creeping into his voice. "What's the matter, Roger? You look the way you always did."

"Isn't that a little weird?" Roger asked him. "As in 'entering a movie theatre and seeing a little boy who looks like you at that age' kind of weird?"

"Yeah, I see what you're getting at," Dastun nodded quietly. "It's not getting older that's worrying you; you're concerned that you don't seem to be getting older in the first place. Is that it?"

"Yeah," Roger nodded. "What's going on? Is it 'good for you' to pilot a megadeus or something? It's not normal."

"You're worrying over nothing," Dastun assured him. "Trust me. Father Time will kick your ass just as he does all the rest of us. He's just waiting for the right moment to strike, that's all."

"I suppose you're right, Dan," Roger nodded weakly.

"Of course I'm right," Dastun grunted as he continued his meal. "Your mind is playing tricks on you Roger. You need to get out more. That's all."

"I hope so," Roger sighed.

* * *

The rest of the meal was rather quiet, but on the way back to military police headquarters Dastun became more talkative. "Hey, Roger, I'm sorry I blew you off like that. You wanted me to tell you if you were starting to lose it and I just ignored you. Having any strange dreams lately?"

"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if I started," Roger grunted as they left the curb to cross the street. "I don't want to suffer hallucinations again, Dan. I don't—!"

Screeching tires interrupted him as he and Dastun looked to the right to see a weaving automobile heading straight for them! They were in the middle of the crosswalk and the car was on them before they knew it!

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: __Oedipus Rex_


	4. Oedipus Rex

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Four: Oedipus Rex_

The car had come out of nowhere. After the Union and Big Fau attacked Paradigm City most of the automobiles in the ruined metropolis were wrecked, so the few that were still on the road were capable of actually speeding down the street instead of being caught in stop and go traffic.

Roger seized Dastun and pulled the burly cop off his feet while simultaneously jumping over six feet into the air. The car zoomed under them while Roger leaped above it with Dastun over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. When Roger's feet returned to the ground, the young negotiator bent his legs to absorb the impact and sprung forward to allow both he and Dastun to roll on the ground as the car that almost hit them collided with a streetlamp and spun into a parked car before crashing to a stop.

"What just happened?" Dastun stammered as he and the young negotiator rose shakily to their feet. "Roger! That was amazing! How were you able to make that jump while carrying me? You must train and work out all the time or something!"

"Yeah," Roger muttered weakly as realization hit him. Train? Work out? When did he ever do _that_?

* * *

In the cathedral-like cavity inside the white tower that Roger Smith made his home Dorothy Wayneright was standing on a catwalk gazing at the impassive face of the massive robot known as Big O. The megadeus was an ungainly metal giant towering over fifty feet tall. Two vaguely humanoid legs supported its barrel shaped body. The enormous arms of the megadeus were in reality massive piledrivers with huge mechanical hands instead of chisels. The head of Big O was an impassive face that was dwarfed by the megadeus' humungous body. The megadeus' face was topped by a red crystalline crown and the top of its chest was covered by a red collar that concealed the cockpit where Roger controlled the massive robot.

Norman Burg walked over to the girlish android and looked up at Big O's face for almost a full minute before he asked her if something was wrong.

"Big O is upset," Dorothy replied her melancholy monotone.

"Big O?" Norman blinked, although since he had only one eye it was more of a wink. "Upset? I could have sworn that I checked all of its systems…"

"It has nothing to do with you, Norman," Dorothy assured him. "It's Roger. Something is wrong with Roger. And Big O can sense it."

"Oh," Norman's remaining eye widened in confusion.

* * *

_The car that almost hit us was just a drunk driver on a slippery street. The mysteries of Paradigm City drive a lot of men to drink but can the temporary oblivion of alcohol hide the fact that we don't know who we are? Who am I? Who… or __what__ is the man who calls himself Roger Smith? _

Roger's ebony Cadillac covered itself with armor as the black clad negotiator entered the workingman's bar known as the Speak Easy. As he made his way past the crowded bar, the bartender handed him a bottle of his preferred beer. Hiding behind his dark sunglasses, Roger approached the old greybeard that he had nicknamed 'the Big Ear'. The old man was sitting in his favorite chair reading a copy of the _Paradigm Times_ with his back against the wall.

"Negotiator," the old man nodded in greeting.

"How long have we known each other?" Roger asked him.

"Almost ten years, why?" the old man looked up from his newspaper to peer at Roger through tinted eyeglasses. "Need a favor?"

"Something like that," Roger nodded. "I'm looking into the past of a man I thought I knew. A man I thought I knew better than anyone. But too much about him doesn't add up."

"Does this friend of yours have a name… Negotiator?" Big Ear asked coyly.

"Roger Smith," the black clad young man sighed.

That remark actually made Big Ear look up from his newspaper. "Well. Haven't heard that one in a while. Tell me, what is it about Roger Smith that is presenting such a mystery? Weren't you with him the whole time?" When Roger frowned at him he added, "Is this something recent or further back?"

"Further back," Roger sighed. "As far back as you can find out. Something happened to me, and I don't know what it is."

"What kind of something?" Big Ear prompted. "Molested as a child maybe? Taken part in some unethical experiment perhaps?"

"Yeah, that's the kind of thing," Roger smiled weakly. "I understand that I won't like what you find out, but I have to know anyway. I'll make an effort not to blame the messenger."

"Glad to hear it," the old man murmured drily. "Roger, although it's unusual nowadays, this kind of thing is nothing new. After whatever took our memories there were all kinds of people who made unsettling discoveries about themselves that brought more questions than answers. Take it from me. If you're leading a happy life in the here and now don't go dragging up what happened in the past. Nothing good will come of it."

"I know," Roger pouted as he took off his sunglasses to stare at the floor. "It's just that there are too many strange things about me that don't make sense. I'm in perfect physical shape but I never seem to exercise."

"Poor you," Big Ear sneered curtly. "It must be a terrible burden getting something for nothing."

"That's just it," Roger insisted. "What did I give up for this? How is it possible that I can move like an acrobat but never practice?"

"Are you familiar with the story of _Oedipus Rex_, Roger?" the old man's deep voice rumbled with amusement.

"Sure," Roger shrugged. "He's the guy who had a thing for his mother right?"

"That's what everyone remembers," Big Ear conceded with a mocking tone, "but no one recalls that he was undone by uncovering the past. He was looking for a murderer, but every step of the way people tell him that it would be better if the past were left alone. Oedipus kept digging until he discovered information so horrible that he gauged his own eyes out."

"What does that have to do with me?" Roger grumbled.

"Michael Seebach destroyed himself when _he_ uncovered the truth," the old man shrugged. "He was a friend of mine. I'm just looking out for you, Roger. At my age, it's hard to make new friends, and most of your old friends are dead. Makes you hold on to the ones you've got left."

"I'll stay away from older women then," Roger smirked, "but you aren't hiding anything from me are you?"

"Not yet," the old man shrugged again as he reopened his newspaper, "but I have a feeling that before this is over I'm going to. If there's something about you that you don't want me to know, you should really reconsider your request."

"I trust you," Roger sighed. "After all you wouldn't endanger one of the few friends you've got left right?" he asked sarcastically.

"Not unless he made me," Big Ear answered smugly. "Some of my friends can be pretty stubborn. You know the type, don't you… Mister Negotiator?"

Roger sighed as he got up and left a stack of twenty dollar bills on the table. He wasn't sure it was worth it this time. Big Ear didn't sound like he was willing to deliver. Oh well, the old man would owe him for next time. In the meantime the old man had given him an idea…

* * *

"You want _what_?" asked a suspicious Dastun.

"I want to speak to Schwartzwald," Roger replied. "He's on Riker's Island. You can get me an audience with him. He's got information that I want to know."

"Are you crazy?" Dastun protested. "Does this have anything to do with that 'Do I look the same' nonsense that you were giving me over lunch? If you're having an identity crisis don't go crawling to _him_! He's going to mess with your mind more, you know he will!"

Roger bit his tongue to avoid a hasty retort. Dastun was right. If Schwartzwald had any information, he wouldn't give it up unless he thought it would cause more harm than good. At the same time he was convinced that somewhere in his enemy's twisted mind was the truth behind what happened forty years ago and the man who called himself Roger Smith.

He took a breath and decided to approach the problem from a different angle. "Dastun, when you arrested him, Schwartzwald had a huge network of followers. I'll bet you haven't rounded them all up. If they're planning something, don't you want to know what it is? I'm betting that you haven't been able to get much out of him, have you?"

"Nope," Dastun grunted, although it wasn't clear whether he was agreeing with him or refusing to be swayed by Roger's new tactic.

"He'll talk to me," Roger smiled smugly, pretending to possess his old confidence. "If I enter the room, we probably won't be able to shut him up. Most of it will probably be pointless rambling but sooner or later we'll hear something interesting. Something you can use. C'mon what do you say?"

"I say 'come back when you have a real emergency'," Dastun shook his head. "Don't worry, he isn't going anywhere."

* * *

_Memories, those untrustworthy witnesses whose testimony contradicts available evidence. How can a man decide when his memories tell him one thing and his senses tell him something different? Which is real, and which is the lie?_

Roger drove through the damaged streets of Paradigm City, attempting to thread his way home. Making good time was a challenge after the damage from the battle with Big Fau and he was forced to leave the overpasses and twist through the streets in an attempt to evade the construction crews and piles of rubble blocking the way. At an intersection he glanced at his right to see a peddler selling tomatoes. They almost had to be stolen, since after Gordon Rosewater's farm burned down tomatoes were expensive…

Tomatoes. Gordon Rosewater, the founder of Paradigm City had implied that just as tomatoes could be copied to produce the original flavor, people could be duplicated as well. But did he mean by implanting lost memories into the younger generation or did he mean cloning someone entirely?

Was he even the _real_ Roger Smith? Was he a copy and if so what kind? Was he a clone, duplicated down to the smallest biological detail or was he some kind of biological android that was grown organically around a metal skeleton?

Suddenly he didn't see the grimy streets of Paradigm City anymore. The image of a factory that produced Roger Smiths plagued his vision… A conveyor belt of steel skeletons went into a machine and a line of identical Roger Smiths came out the other side, each clad in his trademark black suit and blazer. An eye. A barcode. Bald children staring into flames. Shelves of books burning, he could almost make out the titles… Hordes of marching megadeuses laying waste to a city, each one a Big… Gordon Rosewater dressed in a surgical gown smiling beatifically down at him, his clothing covered in bloodstains, a surgical scalpel in his hand…

He came back to reality as a car behind him honked its horn. He gasped as he jerked forward but the car hadn't rammed him, it just honked its horn. Loud. Grunting in irritation, Roger took his foot off the brake and applied it to the gas. Great. The hallucinations had started again. But were they memories or just images from his imagination?

* * *

He was in a foul mood when he got home. The damaged streets of the Paradigm City could increase the amount of stress in any driver, and Roger didn't need it right now. He tried to slip in unnoticed, but to no avail.

"Master Roger, welcome home," Norman Burg greeted as he held a tray to take Roger's tie and allow the negotiator to empty his pockets.

Roger ignored him and almost dashed past him to get to his office. He collapsed in his chair and pulled his journal out of his desk before pulling off his tie. Sweating, he removed his gloves before flipping through his journal to see if he could find some clue, some inconsistency that might give him a lead on the mystery that was Roger Smith.

"Bad day sir?" Norman asked as he collected his master's gloves and tie before departing to fix Roger a drink. "How unfortunate."

Roger could barely read as he turned the pages of his journal. Who was he? Who were his biological parents? Did he even _have_ biological parents? Did he have foster parents for that matter? If not, who were the people in the photographs that adorned his mantle?

"Here you are, sir," Norman removed a glass tumbler filled with brandy from a serving tray as Dorothy watched from the doorway.

Roger swallowed the brandy and gasped as he saw his distorted reflection on the serving tray. "Got to check something," he grunted as he rose from his desk like a man possessed and fled the room. He brushed past Dorothy without a word.

She stopped her dusting to watch Roger go down the hall to disappear through a door. "He went into the bathroom," she said quietly.

"We all have to answer the call of nature," Norman shrugged.

Dorothy looked at Norman with her cool appraising gaze, but said nothing.

* * *

In the bathroom, Roger once again removed his blazer and shirt and surveyed his bare chest in the mirror. "I was shot in the arm…" he muttered as he felt along his bicep searching for a scar. "Last month, I was shot in the arm..." Even though that injury had healed, he should have a scar. There wasn't one. The skin was as smooth as a baby's bottom. It was impossible.

Roger had seen lots of people with scars, especially when he worked in the military police. Heck, Dan Dastun, his oldest friend, had a network of scars on the right side of his head that he claimed to have had since childhood. So why didn't Roger have any? Roger didn't remember being sick, but he had been injured plenty of times.

No sign of where the punk had stabbed him during his rookie year in the military police. No trace of the bullet hole that Red Destiny put his arm months ago. And no clue that a hypnotized Dorothy Wayneright had creased his arm with a bullet a few weeks past. His arms and chest were without blemish.

Come to think of it, hadn't he always healed any injury he suffered in record time? Roger's eyes bulged in realization as he tried to remember: When was the last time he was sick? That he had a cold? Suffered an infection, or even an allergy? Just what was going on here?

* * *

Roger dressed and stumbled out of the bathroom like a drunken sleepwalker. His glassy eyes didn't see Dorothy Wayneright until he bumped into her.

"_You_ took your time in there, Roger Smith," Dorothy scolded with an audacity that only parents or children could possess.

"What do you care?" he snapped as he turned to storm away from her. "It's not like _you_ have to use it!"

"What were you doing in there?" Dorothy asked as she followed him. "Your clothes are all rumpled. Are you all right, Roger?"

"No I'm not all right!" He snapped as he whirled on her. "I don't even know who I am! Could you get out of my face for a second? For crying out loud, I don't have time for this right now!"

"Don't have time for what, Roger?" Dorothy asked with childish persistence. "What is so important? Why don't you know who you are?"

"Knock it off Dorothy, don't you understand? I don't even know if I'm human!" Roger snarled in anguish. "For all I know, I'm just some kind of android!"

Dorothy's eyes widened at that remark. Without a word, she turned and ran away, leaving Roger alone in the hall.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: The Missing Big_


	5. The Missing Big

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual. Additional material by Chiaki J. Konaka, Translated by David Fleming / ZRO Limit_

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Five: The Missing Big_

Roger picked his way through the rubble strewn streets of Paradigm City. Buildings were burning. "Hello?" he called. No answer. "Is anybody there? Maybe I can help!" he shouted. Nothing. He was distracted by the droning of engines in the sky. Above, a flock of Big Duos soared over the ruined landscape.

"What in…?" Roger's outburst was interrupted when he stepped on something soft and squishy. Gasping, he looked down, only to sigh in relief. It was just a tomato. A tomato…

Tomatoes were all over the street. All over. Roger picked his way past them to avoid slipping on them or dirtying his shiny black shoes. It was then that he found the body. A man in a black blazer and black slacks was face down in the street. Was he dead? He almost had to be, but if he wasn't he was probably injured.

Roger crouched to check the man for vitals, then gasped. There was something horribly familiar about this man… Roger turned him over to see his own face staring back at him. He leapt to his feet and staggered backwards only to trip over a second prone and stationary Roger Smith.

The street was littered with them! Every tomato had been replaced with a Roger Smith. All were wearing his black suit. All were lying down, still and quiet. Not even breathing. Some were on their sides. Some were face down like the first one he found. Others were on their backs staring at the sky with sightless eyes.

"Augh!" Roger cried in disgust, for he had fallen onto a deceased Roger Smith. There was no mistaking the smell. A sickly-sweet odor like rotting tomatoes...

Roger's cry sounded deafening in the silence, but it was soon answered. The street shook as a distant pounding grew closer… A structure split open as the black megadeus emerged from underneath it. It marched towards Roger, stepping on Roger Smiths as it went.

"Big O?" Roger gasped. "What do you want? I didn't call you… Hey!" Roger was running away from the black megadeus, then his vision was obscured by giant gunmetal black digits as they closed around him. "Big O!" Roger cried. "What are you doing? What do you want from me?"

Big O's crimson collar rose to obscure its face. The control chair in the cockpit awaited him and so did a number of slender metal cables that reached for him like octopus tentacles!

"No!" Roger shouted. "I'm a human being! I'm not your domineus! I'm not part of a machine! NO!"

* * *

Roger woke up to find himself sitting at his desk. He must have dozed off somehow. The dreams had returned. If they only manifested when he was asleep, he might be all right. But he would have to face his fears or he would be hallucinating while awake. There was only one to do. Confront Big O.

* * *

Roger's shout was heard throughout the mansion.

Dorothy was playing a sad tune on the piano when Roger burst into the parlor like a man possessed.

"Dorothy! R. Dorothy Wayneright!" Roger bellowed.

Dorothy continued playing the piano and made no response.

"Dorothy!" Roger nearly shouted in her face. "Dorothy, I'm talking to you! Where is it? Where did it go?"

"Apparently the same place as your manners, Roger Smith," she said quietly, as she broke into the sprightly selection of Chopin that she woke Roger up with almost every morning.

"Never mind my manners!" Roger shook his head while he paced the room. "Don't you know where it is?"

"If you don't tell me what you're talking about, I can't tell you whether I know or not," the girlish android said stubbornly.

"Don't you understand?" Roger snarled. "It's gone! It's not there!"

"_What _isn't there?" Dorothy asked as she continued to play.

"What do you THINK?" Roger shouted over the now obnoxious music.

"Your heart?" Dorothy guessed drily.

"No!" Roger snapped, missing her sarcasm, "Big O!"

Dorothy paused a moment, then changed the music to more contemporary blues. "Big O is gone?"

"That's what I've been trying to tell you," Roger sighed in defeat.

"You're saying that Big O started up on its own without you in it?" Dorothy asked.

"Yes," Roger nodded. "It's happened before. When it happened, _you_ were in it."

"But right now, I'm sitting here speaking to you," she pointed out.

"Yes… You're right," Roger nodded as he calmed down and sat in a chair. "What's going on here?"

Dorothy studied him with an appraising look. "Roger," she said as she stopped playing and put her hands in her lap.

The silence was deafening. Roger could hear the sound of his own breathing. "What?" he asked, not knowing why he was intimidated.

Dorothy paused before continuing. "I admit that Big O disappearing is a serious matter, but seeing you lose your composure like this is unnatural. You haven't been yourself, even before Big O disappeared."

Roger attempted to bluster his way back to his foul temper. "Big O is gone! If there's a greater reason to lose my composure, I'd sure like to know what it is!"

"Still, you haven't been yourself ever since Daniel Kirk came over," Dorothy said.

"What?"

"It's not as if something has happened that would require you to go out in Big O right this very moment," Dorothy pointed out.

"I'm thinking about what would happen if it did!" Roger bawled.

"Are you?"

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" Roger demanded. "What are you getting at, Dorothy?"

"What exactly is Big O to you?" Dorothy asked pointblank.

Roger had no answer.

"It's unlikely that it's something you love so much that it's irreplaceable," Dorothy's voice was almost scolding, but her monotone flattened her delivery somewhat.

"Putting it that way is completely off base," Roger protested.

"Would you react this way if the Gryphon disappeared?" the android asked.

"Does an android's way of thinking put a car on par with a Megadeus?" the young negotiator sneered.

Dorothy fixed him with what best could be described as a cold glare. Was it his imagination, or was she getting better at expressing herself?

There was an awkward silence before Roger cleared his throat. "At any rate, Big O has gone somewhere underground, taking the Prairie Dog with it. What am I going to do?" he sighed. "How can I look for it…?

"Maybe it doesn't want to be found." Dorothy looked away from him. She was shutting him out. Why was she doing that? Had he said something to offend her? Surely his distress at Big O's disappearance would justify his behavior wouldn't it?

"Doesn't want to be found?" Roger repeated. "What do you mean? Why wouldn't Big O want me to find it?"

"You don't seem to have a high regard for machines," Dorothy said without facing him. "Perhaps you hurt Big O's feelings."

"Feelings?" Roger sneered incredulously. "Me? Hurt Big O's feelings? How do you even know it _has_ feelings? Feelings, that's rich, coming from an android…"

Dorothy got up from the piano and walked briskly out to the rooftop patio.

"Dorothy?" Roger called. "Dorothy, what's gotten into you?"

"Master Roger, a guest has arrived," Norman said as he stepped into the parlor.

Roger whirled in surprise at the butler's approach. "N-Norman! Where in the world have you been?"

"Me, sir?" the butler asked. "Where have I been? Why, I've been in the kitchen."

"Never mind that!" Roger snapped.

"Sir?"

"Don't you know where it is?" the negotiator demanded.

"Where what is, sir?" Norman asked.

"It's gone! Bi…" Roger stopped with a gasp. "You… said I had a guest?"

"That's right, sir," the butler nodded. "Colonel Dastun of the Military Police says he would like to see you, Master Roger."

"What could he possibly want?" Roger complained.

As if on cue, Dastun chose that moment to enter. "How long are going to keep me waiting?" the grizzled colonel growled.

"Sir, you really mustn't barge in unannounced!" the elderly butler protested. "It simply isn't done!"

"It's all right, Norman," Roger assured him.

"Yes, sir," Norman acquiesced grudgingly as Dorothy returned to the parlor to view Roger's visitor.

"How do you do, Miss," Dastun took off his hat as he greeted Dorothy.

"Good evening, Colonel Dastun," Dorothy nodded.

"I see you're polite when it comes to androids, at any rate," Roger commented.

"Er, um, I didn't mean it like that…" Dastun stammered.

"I'm sorry, but would you mind waiting a minute?" Roger interrupted as he headed to the door. He paused in the doorway to gesture to his butler. "Norman."

"Sir?" Norman asked as the two blackclad men left the room. Dorothy walked over and sat on the piano bench.

Dastun and Dorothy were left alone. The grizzled cop realized just how little he actually knew about Dorothy Wayneright. She had apparently made herself a major part of Roger's life, but Dastun still didn't know anything about her.

"So…" the human began awkwardly. "You can play the piano?"

Dorothy responded by playing a sentimental tune. "Do you like ballads?" she asked.

"No, I'm not all that interested in music," Dastun muttered as he worked up his courage. "Uh… Dorothy… I mean, Miss Wayneright…"

"Hm?"

"Is Roger all right?" Dastun prodded. "'Cause he was actin' strangely at lunch."

"No," she said after a short pause. "What happened to him while he was out?"

"What?"

"What happened to Roger while he was out?" Dorothy repeated. "I fixed lunch for him and then he left without eating it. When he returned, he was… haunted… obsessed… horrified… I can't describe it…"

"We almost got hit by a car," Dastun offered.

"Someone tried to kill you?" Dorothy stopped playing.

"No, some idiot drank too much and nearly killed us before he wrapped his car around a streetlamp," Dastun clarified.

Dorothy stared blankly at him before finally blinking. "That's not enough to cause him to act so strangely," she said as her fingers returned to the keys. "An old friend of his, Danny Kirk came to visit and upset him, but it still doesn't explain his behavior. Did you notice it too?"

"Yeah," Dastun sighed as Dorothy continued to play the sentimental ballad. "Roger asked me to keep an eye on him after he got me out of the big house. He didn't like the idea that the pilot of a megadeus might uh… lose it…"

"He has dreams," Dorothy nodded. "Dreams that are fragments of Memories, but I didn't think he was having any more after Big Fau was destroyed."

"He's not having 'em anymore?" Dastun scratched his head. "So what's with that bizarre conversation we were having at lunch?"

"Do you think that Roger's human?" Dorothy asked softly.

"What?" Dastun jerked backwards instinctively. "Do I think that Roger's human? What kind of question is that?"

"Do you think it would be so bad if he wasn't?" Dorothy voice was even quieter.

"Do I think that it would be so bad?" Dastun repeated. He laughed nervously. "Uh… Dorothy… um… your playing… Did you have to practice a lot?"

"No," she informed him. "The Memories I have let me play the piano."

"Your Memories?" he prodded.

"Yes," she replied. "The Memories belonging to Dorothy Wayneright, the girl I was modeled after who died long ago."

So she really _was_ a ghost in the machine. That was enough to even give a veteran cop the willies. "I see…" he murmured before he leaned against the piano and let her play. He listened to the ballad for over a minute before he spoke again. "Doesn't it… bother you?"

"Hm?" Dorothy stopped playing and gave him her full attention.

"No, I'm sorry," Dastun apologized. "That was strange thing to ask. Where'd that Roger Smith get to?"

Norman's voice drifted into the room. "This has never happened to me either, sir. Whatever shall we do, Master Roger?"

"At any rate, we've got to find it," Roger's voice sounded as if he was coming closer. Roger and Norman must have been returning to the parlor.

"It looks like he's busy," Dastun muttered. "I should come back some other time."

The door opened. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting, Dastun," Roger said in a conversational tone as he entered the room. "So, what can I do for you?"

"That's all right, I'll come back later," Dastun said as he placed his hat over his bald pate. "This looks like a bad time for you."

"In other words, you're saying that you didn't come here tonight as the head of the Military Police?" Roger teased.

"Or as your former superior officer," Dastun added.

"Don't tell me that you're here as a friend," Roger sighed.

"Believe it or not even _you_ got friends," Dastun retorted, "but what I got is nothing that can't wait. Sorry I bothered you," he said as he headed for the door.

"Dastun," Roger stopped him. "Remember when you told me to come back if I had a real emergency?"

"Yeah?"

"We've got one," Roger sighed. "Big O. It's gone. Big O has disappeared."

"It's _what_?"

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: A Meeting with Schwartzwald_


	6. A Meeting with Schwartzwald

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Six: A Meeting with Schwartzwald_

Riker's Island was the site of Paradigm City's prison. Some people said it was named after a man named William Riker, but of course nobody knew who he was anymore. Some spotty records indicated that Will Riker was an astronaut or a naval commander. Other accounts said that he was a Dutch Settler from long ago. In the end, it really didn't matter.

It didn't matter to Schwartzwald, although at times he was mildly curious. Formerly known as the muckraking reporter Michael Seebach, the disfigured fanatic had burned himself beyond recognition and was now criminally insane. It was believed he went mad trying to learn what happened forty years ago. Roger suspected that Seebach wasn't the victim of failure, but the victim of success. If Roger's suspicions were correct, Michael Seebach had uncovered the truth that the mass amnesia had hidden and was forced to destroy both his mind and his identity to bury it again.

The doors opened on his maximum security cell and in walked Roger Smith wearing his iconic black suit and blazer, the very model of corporate conformity with just a hint of pretentiousness. From his body language, Paradigm City's top negotiator hadn't come to gloat; he was tensed as if preparing for combat.

Schwartzwald smiled a lipless grin. "To what do I owe this unexpected honor?" he asked sarcastically.

Roger paused to take in the vision of the burned and bandaged face that resembled a stereotypical Egyptian mummy. He glanced over Schwartzwald's shoulder to see the red words 'THE TRUTH WILL SET YOU FREE' covering the padded walls in what Roger hoped was crayon. "You often accuse people of refusing to listen to the Truth," he announced with exaggerated nonchalance, "I'm here to hear it."

"You don't want the Truth Paradigm lapdog," Schwartzwald spat in contempt. "You would rather have your world of illusion!"

"And you would rather wreak havoc than learn the Truth!" Roger retorted. "But calling each other names isn't going to solve anything. What happened to the man who was devoted to learning the Truth and telling the rest of us? What did you find out before you lost your mind? What were you trying to warn us about? You said that there was one Truth and that if we avert our eyes from it we would be nothing but puppets…"

"You _are_ nothing but a puppet, don't you see that?" Schwartzwald cut in testily, his voice filled with concern instead of malice. "You, who think you're so important to this world, this insignificant speck floating through the terrifying voids of infinity… You think you make a difference! But you don't! Not anymore! You never did!"

"Everyone can make a difference, Schwartzwald," Roger declared arrogantly. "We have choices. They make us who we are."

"No!" the bandaged inmate shook his head and backed away. "We don't! None of us have a choice! We just think we do! But we don't!"

"Sometimes our options are limited," Roger conceded, "but what we do with the choices that come our way defines us as individuals. For example, before the Union captured you, you sent me a letter. It reached me the day you escaped. Why did you send _me_ a letter anyhow? What made _me_ so special?"

"You?" Schwartzwald blinked in confusion. "Why did I send the letter to _you_?"

"Yes," Roger nodded. "What made me special? What were you trying to say?"

"You were the domineus of the black megadeus," Schwartzwald explained condescendingly as he regained his former bravado. "You were the only one who seemed to be interested in the Truth for its own sake rather than to pursue an agenda. You saw that cracks in the mirror, saw some of what was hidden behind the curtain! You are beginning to realize that the world you see, your very existence, is just an illusion, and that you'll never be more than a puppet if you don't discover what pulls at your strings!"

"Alright, who _is_ pulling at my strings?" Roger smiled. "If you're so smart, who gave me the ability to pilot the black megadeus? Why am I able to stay in shape without having to exercise? And why do the years go by but I stay as young and healthy as I've ever been?"

The bandaged lunatic seemed startled at his words before bursting into maniacal laughter. "You don't know!" he chortled. "You really don't know, do you? It's not 'who', it's 'what'! As for 'why', why don't you ask your master, Gordon Rosewater? He's the one who created you! The one who selected you to be a domineus!"

"Do you know that for sure or is that just speculation?" Roger smirked, refusing to be intimidated.

"Why don't you ask him and find out?" Schwartzwald challenged.

"I heard he was dead," Roger feigned disinterest while trying to learn how much Schwartzwald knew.

"You heard that I was dead also," Schwartzwald grinned back. "Never believe everything you hear, Negotiator. Sources have been known to lie."

"Yeah they have," Roger nodded grimly as he turned to leave. He was stopped by the writing on the wall with the exit to the cell: _There is but one truth. If you avert your eyes from it, you will always remain nothing more than a puppet_. He grunted in irritation before whirling to face the bandaged maniac as Schwartzwald burst into hysterical laughter.

"You've lost it, haven't you?" Schwartzwald chortled. "You've lost your soul!"

"What are you talking about?" Roger retorted.

"The black megadeus!" Schwartzwald cackled. "It's left you! You don't know where it is! That's the reason you came to see me isn't it?" he gloated. "You're not a domineus anymore!"

"Why wouldn't I know where the black megadeus is?" Roger demanded. "How can you tell?"

"I can see the haunted look in your eyes, negotiator," the former reporter hissed. "I can see the emptiness. You don't know who you are. That's why it left you. Don't you understand? A megadeus chooses its domineus. It chooses one who controls the power of God created by the hand of Man, one who is able to arrive at one truth. That is _not_ the case with you! You don't _have_ a truth anymore. You've lost your soul. I pity you, negotiator. You're no longer a domineus. You're just like everybody else in this wretched city! Ignorant, stupid, powerless and empty!"

Roger squirmed under the verbal bombardment as Schwartzwald broke into maniacal laughter. Schwartzwald grinned revealing rows of white and black teeth. They looked like… A bar code. An eye. Bald children looking into the fire. Old and doddering Gordon Rosewater offering Roger a tomato. Big Duo, Big O and Big Fau marching through a burning city, lighting fires with lasers shooting from their eyes.

"Ha-ha-ha!" Schwartzwald chortled. "I wonder what other gifts will vanish now that the megadeus has left you! Will you be such an acrobat and make those impossible jumps or will you break your leg the next time you try? You're empty, Paradigm dog! You don't have a name anymore! You're even more meaningless than you were before! I may have lost my mind, but _you_ have lost your soul!"

"It isn't a megadeus that gives me a soul!" Roger retorted. "I have a soul whether I have a megadeus or not!"

"A megadeus won't serve someone who doesn't have a soul," Schwartzwald countered. "Call it a requirement. Only men with souls have what it takes."

"I _have_ a soul!" Roger insisted. "Having some doubts doesn't change that!"

"It does when those doubts cripple you!" the former reporter gloated. "Poor Mister Negotiator, he sees things that tell him that the world that he would die to protect is a _lie_, that the illusions of that world are not worth the sacrifice!"

"What are you talking about?" Roger flinched. "I'm not seeing things!"

"Yes you are," Schwartzwald nodded. "You see things that your subconscious is trying to tell you that your conscious mind refuses to accept! Tell me, do you see the giants that walk the land as they lay the city to waste?"

In his mind's eye, Big Duo, Big O and Big Fau marched through a burning city. "No!" Roger lied. "I don't see anything like that!"

"I thought you did," Schwartzwald gloated. "Tell me Mister Negotiator, don't you find it odd that there is only one man is this whole city who has the desire to pursue the truth?" he whispered conspiratorially. "Isn't it strange that no one ever thought to ask what the world outside Paradigm City has become or what happened forty years ago? Do you ever wonder if we were _made_ to think that way?"

"_Made_ to think that way?" Roger sputtered. "By who?"

"Gordon Rosewater is the prime suspect," Schwartzwald said in a surprisingly reasonable voice, "but it is possible that whoever decided to control our thoughts is long dead. But _why_ Mister Negotiator…? _Why_ erase our Memories and implant thoughts and urges to turn us into unquestioning sheep? Why was it so important to destroy all trace of who we were and make sure that none of the soulless drones that inhabit this corrupt city ever think to question the status quo?"

"Power, isn't it always about power?" Roger suggested. "It's a lot easier to oppress the people if they can't imagine anything different. In one stroke we have no history and no neighbors. The Paradigm way of life is the only one we have. With no alternatives, we have no choices, and have to accept the situation as it stands."

"Aren't there other ways to oppress the people?" Schwartzwald asked him. "One that doesn't involve destroying the world that was and erasing the memories of the survivors? Couldn't they have burnt all the books and slaughtered the old people perhaps? Enforced laws to keep the citizens from contacting the dirty foreigners? Why wipe out the world that was? Why was that necessary? Come now, Mister Smith, isn't that a touch… drastic?"

"That's funny, coming from you," Roger snorted.

"I simply wanted to eliminate the ones who are keeping us ignorant," Schwartzwald shook his head. "A surgical strike on the city to cut out the gangrenous vipers that uphold the hypocrisy. I didn't try to destroy the world like Alex Rosewater did. Come to think of it, why? Why did Alex Rosewater try to destroy Paradigm City? There was no need to conquer it, it was already his. So why…? Why?"

"Let me guess," Roger's eyes narrowed. "Alex Rosewater discovered that his entire life was a lie."

"You say that so flippantly, Paradigm Dog, but think about it," Schwartzwald muttered. "He had everything, but it still wasn't enough. He uncovered enough of his father's lies to discover that it was all meaningless. He wanted to be the god of this world, the master of all mankind. But he couldn't. So he had to destroy the world and try to replace it with another. Idiot. It wouldn't have worked. He could never be the god of this world, not even one that he created with his own two hands. That role has been taken."

"What are you talking about?" Roger's voice dripped with skepticism.

"I have a secret, negotiator," Schwartzwald gloated. "The megadeuses that you see in your delirium? Those unfeeling giants who walk the earth laying waste to mankind and his creations? I think I know what those giants are, what they represent. I don't know for certain, but I can tell you… _They are not megadeuses!_"

"What?"

"Think about it," the bandaged burn victim whispered. "Why build them? Why build the megadeuses in the first place? Is man so foolish as to build the very titans that will judge him for his folly? 'Cast in the Name of God, Ye Not Guilty'. Why are they cast in the Name of God? Why do they assure those who think they command them that they are not guilty? Think about it…"

Roger gasped as he stumbled backwards. His hands grasped the sides of his head. Schwartzwald's words seemed to open a floodgate of feelings, memories and images that didn't make any sense, except for one primal emotion: Fear.

"Think about it…" Schwartzwald repeated. "Why build them so _big_? Why build them so large that they can demolish skyscrapers with their metal hands? And why build a weapon that will judge the worthiness of the soldier who wields it? Why create a weapon that can only be commanded by a pilot that believes in one truth? Don't you see how these questions are related? They aren't separate questions! They are all facets of one question, the answer is one Truth!"

"One Truth?" Roger repeated. "What are you talking about?"

"_Why make them so big_?" Schwartzwald demanded. "Why did our foolish ancestors make them so big? Were they trying to impress their rivals? Or was there some other reason? Some fundamental need to create titans that would dwarf the puny creatures that built them? Why are they cast in the name of God? Who were they fighting? With all the weapons they pack, they certainly weren't designed for construction! What was so threatening that civilization had to devote its resources to giant robots? Why build them in the first place? Why build giant robots that could squash armored tanks and could override the wishes of their pilots? Why in Heaven's name would anybody build them?"

Once again, Schwartzwald's words were opening doors in Roger's mind that his subconscious strived to keep shut.

"You know, don't you?" Schwartzwald whispered. "You know that answers to the questions that I'm asking you. You want to forget… Forget your failure to protect the world… This naked, pitiful little world from the giants who formed it. The megadeuses, the sacred chariots of mankind were useless against the Things that once were but are now. NOW I remember! I REMEMBER why we built the sacred chariots of mankind! I REMEMBER Roger Smith! All this time I was mistaken! I realize what those memories really are!"

Gasping and sweating, Roger backed away from the bandaged maniac, who was now shouting as the insane revelations came to him.

"Paradigm City! A grand ostentatious stage! This pitiful zoo! This grand menagerie of human foolishness! And above it, secretly looking down on the folly of human blunders were not the ever expecting and comforting presence of Gods, but only their blasphemous equivalent. They destroyed the world but couldn't be bothered to finish the job! This is a comedy! That which I was searching for! The true memories! THEY WERE…"

Roger shouted as he punched Schwartzwald in the jaw, sending him down the padded floor. Shivering, the black clad negotiator clutched his fist while staring down at the unconscious inmate. "Why… did I do that?" he asked himself in a quiet voice that sounded strangely calm. "What's happening to me?"

* * *

_Schwartzwald was going to tell me everything and I stopped him. I don't understand it. I HAD to stop him. It makes no sense. He was insane. Nothing that he said could be true could it? So why did I feel the need to stop him from speaking? Could it be that his truth is too close to my own?_

"For crying out loud Roger, I told you this was a bad idea," Dastun scolded him as he rode in the passenger seat of the long black Cadillac known as the Gryphon. "You let that maniac get inside your head and now you're more messed up than ever. Did you find out where the black megadeus took off to?"

"No, but he seemed to think that the reason Big O left was because I was no longer worthy to pilot a megadeus," Roger shrugged from the driver's seat.

"Not worthy to pilot a megadeus?" Dastun repeated in disbelief. "You've got to be kidding! Who else is there?"

"Someone who believes in one truth and is one hundred percent sure of himself and his purpose," Roger sighed. "Someone who knows who he is."

"But in this crazy town, none of us know who we are," Dastun argued.

"_I_ used to know," Roger nodded. "Now I'm not so sure."

"Look, Roger, I go through this kind of thing all the time," Dastun told him. "It's called a midlife crisis. So you're having yours early. It doesn't mean anything…"

"If Schwartzwald is right, Big O thinks it does," Roger muttered. "Tell me, when you're having a 'midlife crisis'… should _you_ be allowed command the military police or carry a gun?"

"Yes… no… most of the time," Dastun waffled before crossing his arms and looking out the front window in irritation. "Well I'd like to see who _else_ there is to do the job! It's not like there's a lot of options anymore ya know!"

"I know."

* * *

Dorothy stood on the stone wall at the edge of the rooftop patio gazing out at the cluttered and decrepit cityscape. She was perfectly still. Only the wind that whipped through her hair and clothing proved that she wasn't a photograph. Dorothy was listening… listening for any sign that Big O was out there and would return. Big O would return someday. Big O simply _had_ to.

Without warning, Dorothy's mouth was moving rapidly as a strange electronic noise came out of her. It was as if she was speaking gibberish at an accelerated speed. Dorothy clasped her hands in front of her mouth and gasped in horror. She glanced around fearfully and hopped off the balcony wall and back onto the patio. She would have to get away, and soon. Without Big O there was nothing to protect her from what was coming.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: What Did I Say?_


	7. What Did I Say?

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Seven: What Did I Say?_

"Where to sir?" the limousine driver asked.

Danny Kirk sighed and tried to collect his thoughts. Where to indeed? None of the streets looked the same anymore. For forty years the streets were familiar and now everything was rubble and construction sites. It was the ruined streets that reminded Danny that he had—what did they call it? Alzheimer's. He preferred to call it 'Mad Cow'. Who the heck was _Alzheimer_ anyway? Whoever he was, he died before the mass amnesia hit and the only thing that he was remembered for was naming 'going senile' after himself.

The most recent memories are the first to go, so he'd been told. He wondered if he'd panic when he saw an old man staring out of the mirror or anything like that. At least he still remembered going to Roger Smith's house. When was the last time he visited Roger? Was it really over a year ago? Where had the time gone? It didn't seem that long ago, really it didn't. At least he should remember this time.

Getting angry apparently gave him enough adrenaline to remember, at least for the rest of the day. Was that what he was going to have to do from now on? Was he going to have to become ridiculously impassioned at every event he wanted to recall? People will think he had a screw loose and worse yet, they'd be right.

Out of the corner of his eye he caught a black clad redheaded blur pedaling past the car. It was Roger's little robot girlfriend pedaling her metal heart out. Her spindly little legs whirled so fast that it made the bicycle she was riding go as fast as a motorcycle. Where was she going in such a hurry? No matter, this was a chance to learn about the pretty girl that Roger kept hidden away. "Follow that bike," he told his driver. "Don't lose her."

* * *

Miles away in the trackless desert, a massive ungainly metal giant lumbered towards the damaged metropolis that was Paradigm City.

* * *

Roger returned home and bid farewell to Dastun as his former boss drove off in his own car. He was glad that he had confided in a friend instead of keeping his insecurities hidden, but Dastun couldn't help him now. He would have to go underground again and hope that something in the hidden chambers beneath the abandoned subway would tell him where Big O went. Somewhere down there was Angel, and probably Gordon Rosewater too. Maybe that hidden control room he imagined Angel was in was down there as well…

"Master Roger?" Norman's voice brought him out of his reverie. "Have you seen Miss Dorothy?"

"No, I just got home, Norman," Roger said breezily. "I thought she was back here with you."

"I'm afraid not," Norman sighed gravely. "I had hoped that she was with _you_. The last I saw her she was out on the balcony and now she's disappeared."

Roger nodded as his throat clenched like a fist. After the Big O had vanished the last thing he needed was to hear the word 'disappeared' in a conversation about Dorothy. "Did she leave a note?"

"No, but her bicycle is missing as well," Norman conceded. "I had assumed that she went out to find you."

"Great," Roger grunted. "We really ought to put a bell on her. Okay, make me some sandwiches and then call Dastun's number and leave a message telling him to keep an eye out for her. It looks like I'm going to miss dinner. First Big O, now Dorothy. I doubt this is a coincidence. She wouldn't just run off on her own."

"I'm not so sure sir," Norman sighed.

"What?" Roger was going to leave, but now he whirled around to face his butler. "Do you know of any reason she might run off without telling us?"

"Perhaps she's looking for Big O sir," Norman suggested.

"Norman…" Roger said in a strict tone.

"But it's possible that you might have said something that she may have taken the wrong way," Norman added. "Some inconsequential remark she may have misinterpreted as a sign of your displeasure. You know how important your opinion is to her."

"Yeah, she wants to know my opinion so she can take the very opposite," Roger quipped. "What do you mean I may have said something that she could've 'taken the wrong way'? Did she say anything to you?"

"To me sir?" Norman repeated innocently. "Perish the thought. Unlike the rest of us, Miss Dorothy always chooses her words carefully before she speaks."

"And _I_ don't?" Roger bristled as he picked up on the subtle hint. "Norman, did you overhear anything I said that might have offended her?"

"Well…" Norman looked away. "Of course I'm sure that your remark wasn't meant as an insult, it would be easy to see how Dorothy could interpret…"

"Norman," Roger warned.

"It was after you got home from lunch sir," Norman explained. "You seemed quite agitated, and you rushed into the washroom. When you came out, you and Miss Dorothy exchanged words."

"Dorothy and I always exchange words," Roger frowned. "Especially when she's being a pest. Just what did I say to her that might have crossed the line?"

"It's not really my place to say…"

"Say it!" Roger snapped.

"Well, it was as if you had fallen asleep and had recently woken from some kind of nightmare," Norman said uncomfortably. "You seemed to have concerns about your identity. It's perfectly normal, takes me back to my youth. I remember my earliest memory four decades back when I didn't know who _I_ was…"

"Norman," Roger interrupted. "What exactly did I say to her?"

"You um, were concerned that you might not be human," Norman admitted.

"Is _that _it?" Roger blushed as he turned away. Great. It was a calculated decision to tell Dastun his worries but he had hoped that he could keep his identity crisis concealed from Dorothy and Norman. Instead his insecurities were parading around like contestants in a beauty contest. "Why would _that_ be so offensive?" he muttered as he retreated towards the stairs.

"Why indeed?" asked his butler as he left the room.

* * *

Soon the long black Cadillac was parked in front of the Speak Easy. Inside, the elderly informant Roger called the Big Ear glanced up from his newspaper. "Back again so soon, Negotiator?" he asked in a mixture of irritation and amusement. "You certainly don't give a fellow time to do any legwork."

"Dorothy's gone missing," Roger said gravely as he sat down. "While I was out, she disappeared."

"Any clues?" the old man asked him.

"Her bike's gone too," Roger admitted.

"She might have gone out to see a friend," Big Ear offered, "or do you see something… _ominous_ in her departure? Is there… trouble at home, Roger?"

"What could possibly make you ask that?" Roger growled.

"You're not acting frantic or angry, you're feeling guilty, almost apologetic," the old man said knowingly. "You don't think she's been kidnapped, you think she left you. And you don't want to check with any of her acquaintances or any of your other associates because they might gossip. That leaves me."

"Don't be ridiculous," Roger snarled. "Why would she run away like this?"

"You tell me," Big Ear shrugged. "Did you do something that crossed the line, Mister Negotiator?"

"I don't know, I told her to get out of my face when I got home!" Roger fidgeted.

"Sounds like you were really turning on the charm," the old man smirked as he turned a page on his newspaper. "What possessed you to disrespect the little lady like that? Got something against androids perhaps?"

"No it had nothing to do with her!" Roger insisted. "It was me! Too many things about me just don't add up! I never exercise yet I'm as strong as a weightlifter and I move like a dancer! I haven't aged a day in ten years! For crying out loud, I don't even know if I'm _human_ or not! For all I know I might be just an android!"

"Is that what you said to _her_?" Big Ear asked, cutting him off.

"What?"

"Did you say out loud that you were worried that you might be just a crummy android?" Big Ear asked dryly.

"I… I might have said something like that…" Roger said weakly. "I don't think I used the word 'crummy' though…"

"It was implied in your tone," the old man clarified. "Tell me, Roger, do you think of Miss Wayneright as a machine or as a girl?"

"A girl, naturally," Roger assured him.

"That's too bad, women are a lot more complicated than machines," Big Ear sighed before peering over his newspaper to fix Roger with a penetrating look. "Did you ever tell _her_ that you think of her as a person, not a mere… commodity?"

"I uh … sure, I told her that… once or twice… when it really mattered…" Roger stammered. Thinking back, most of the time he told her the reverse. He usually went out of his way to remind her that she was an android. Or was he reminding _himself _that she was 'just an android'? Just an android. That's what he said to her wasn't it? Not a person, just a machine. Roger took off his sunglasses and winced as he pressed his gloved hand to his forehead. "Oh Dorothy, I'm so sorry…"

"It's not your fault, you weren't yourself today," Big Ear assured him.

"If it's not my fault, whose fault was it then?" Roger growled.

"Roger, today you pointed out a lot of inconsistencies," the old man said gently. "You noticed a lot of things about yourself that don't quite add up. But these things are nothing new. They were there ever since I've known you. What happened recently that brought these things to your attention?"

"What?"

"What's changed in you that you only now notice these strange things about Roger Smith?" Big Ear leaned towards him. "What happened that made you see things in yourself that you didn't see before?"

"I… an old friend, Danny Kirk… he asked me to euthanize him today," Roger stammered. "He's like a father to me, and he thinks I can kill him, just like that..."

"I had no idea that he was in such poor health," Big Ear admitted.

"That's just it," Roger nodded. "He doesn't want anybody to know. He wants me to shoot him, quick and painless, a warrior's death. But I just can't do it!"

"So don't," the old man shrugged.

"But… he's losing his memory," a sweating Roger Smith explained. "He's… he's going senile! He's losing the man who he is, one piece at a time… I can't stand to watch him fall apart that way! But I can't kill him either! He's going to die! Slowly! Horribly! And he'll make a fool out of himself before he goes! When my foster parents died, it didn't hurt this much, but Danny…!"

"Roger, all things must pass," Big Ear said gently. "No one can live forever. Not even a man as great as Danny Kirk."

"But… to go out in such a demeaning way," Roger shuddered. "People are already starting to forget him. Soon all they'll remember is that senile old man who couldn't remember his own name…"

"So it isn't about you living forever," the old man rumbled. "It's about the ones you care about growing old and leaving you. If that's what you're worried about, I'd study up on robotics and buy a bouquet of flowers."

"What are you talking about?" Roger asked defensively. "I don't need anyone. I chart my own course. If Danny was going out quick, I'd take it better. It's the slow lingering that's getting to me…"

"Everybody needs somebody, sometime," Big Ear assured him. "Even if you're not the type to get married and have a whole bunch of kids you still need someone to share a drink with now and then. Heck, even having an enemy is better than having no one at all. Take it from me, Roger. Even a lone wolf needs to check in with the pack once and a while."

"I'm not going to live forever," Roger insisted. "It's ridiculous. It's impossible."

"Of course it is," the old man shrugged, "but if it _was_ possible I'd find that android girlfriend of yours and make it up to her. If you really think of her as a woman I suggest you get down on your knees and beg for her to take you back."

"Where do you get these ridiculous insinuations?" Roger asked testily. "Our relationship isn't even close to that way. I took her in when she had no place to go. Same as when my foster parents took _me_ in."

"If that's the case why are you coming down here and pouring your heart out to me?" Big Ear asked with a hint of amusement in his voice. "That's a bit out of character for you, isn't it, Mister Negotiator?"

"I'm not pouring my heart out… oh forget it!" Roger snarled as he rose from his chair. "Just forget the whole thing! Honestly, Dorothy isn't even here and she's _still_ getting under my skin! I don't believe this!" He stomped away angrily as he placed his sunglasses back on his face.

"I guess she really _is_ a woman after all," Big Ear held up his glass in a mock toast as Roger left the building. "Only a real girl could get someone so riled up without even being in the room."

Roger got back in his car and swore under his breath. The sun was setting on a 'perfect day'. It was getting dark, and there was no sign of Dorothy _or_ Big O.

Had he really said that he was afraid that he was only an android to Dorothy's face? Roger was worried that he wasn't human. Terrified. It cut to the center of his being. And Dorothy saw that. She saw that he couldn't even accept the _possibility_ of not being human, not even the _possibility_… What did that say about how he thought about _her_? How he _really _thought about her, not when he was being nice. It was crueler than all the android slurs he had thrown her way put together. This wasn't just teasing; this was how he really felt…

Talk about your lousy timing. Danny wanted Roger to shoot him, and now the young negotiator was tempted to shoot himself. He didn't who he was. He didn't know _what_ he was. What he _did_ know is that one of the men who helped him chart his path in the world was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it but make it quick. In addition he had driven away Dorothy Wayneright, the one person who kept him sane.

Dorothy. She really _had_ managed to keep him sane, somehow. When he imagined himself a homeless wanderer in a Paradigm City of more than forty years past she appeared in his vision when he decided to face his fears rather than retreating from them. When Beck's scorpion robots took her away he stopped having waking dreams until his confrontation with Big Fau. After his (hallucinatory?) negotiation with Angel and Big Venus he focused his attention on restoring Dorothy's memory unit and had no doubts about himself or his purpose. In his last waking dream he escaped an imaginary insane asylum by building up the imaginary Dorothy's self-image rather than focusing on his own. The pattern held somehow. Somehow, that foul-tempered android got his mind off his identity crisis each time.

Could she do it now? In the past, Roger had managed to drag himself back to sanity by thinking of Dorothy instead of himself. Okay then, Roger decided. It's simple. Stop thinking about yourself. Time to think about her. Worry about her. No time to fret over the enigma called Roger Smith. Concentrate on Dorothy and make sure she comes home safe. Find a way to make it up to her if she ever _does_ decide to come back.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: What Are You Running From?_


	8. What Are You Running From?

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Eight: __What Are You Running From?_

Night had fallen, still no Dorothy, still no Big O. Aside of a young street musician and his blind girlfriend, Roger didn't know any of Dorothy's friends, or even if she _had_ friends. Could her disappearance be connected to the disappearance of Big O? The sullen negotiator looked out at the rooftop patio, hoping to see Dorothy's slender silhouette.

* * *

At Danny Kirk's penthouse apartment, Dorothy paused to take in the tacky surroundings of her eccentric host. A motley collection of rusts, reds, golds, and yellows assaulted her senses from the carpets, the walls, even the furniture. It explained Roger's preference for black. Walking into such a jarring kaleidoscope of clashing hues could make anyone prefer darker colors.

"Care for a drink, Dorothy?" Danny said as he uncorked a bottle. "I know you're an android, but can you drink red wine?"

"I can eat and drink a little," she assured him. "Why do you want Roger to shoot you? Why _him_? Don't you see what it's doing to him?"

Danny managed to laugh it off. "That's a rather personal question."

"It's tearing Roger apart," Dorothy insisted. "I wasn't aware that Roger was capable of forming long term relationships, yet the news of your failing health has him inconsolable. The idea that you want him to end your life is driving him insane. I'm not exaggerating. It's literally tearing his mind apart."

"If I want to go out, I want to go with all my marbles," Danny shrugged indignantly. "Is that so bad?"

"Then why don't you commit suicide?" the android retorted. "Why drag—?"

"And die a coward's death?" Danny protested. "Not Danny Kirk! Not in a million years! I'm going out dramatically, not pathetically! I'm Danny Kirk! No cowardly suicide for me! I'm going to die with my boots on. Danny Kirk."

"Would being crushed by a megadeus suffice?" Dorothy deadpanned.

"That depends, I don't want to be just a statistic," Danny sniffed. "Did it just step on me or was it after me specifically?"

"What if it was after something in your apartment?" Dorothy offered.

"Hm, it might work…" Danny thought about it. "Why? Is a megadeus after you?"

"It's after my Memories," Dorothy explained. "With Big O gone there's no stopping it. Anyone in my immediate proximity is at risk."

"Hm," Danny nodded. "Killed by a giant robot while futilely defending a damsel in distress," he mused. "Yeah. It could work. Sounds right. Sounds good. Sounds… Danny Kirk!"

"Then it's win-win," Dorothy said as she looked away. "I save Roger twice."

* * *

In the barren wasteland west of Paradigm City, a massive ungainly metal giant lumbered eastward.

* * *

"So… Dorothy… What are you _really_ running away from?" Danny asked slyly. "Sorry if I'm being nosy, but you don't expect me to believe that 'a megadeus is after me' story do you?"

"Very well," Dorothy said carefully. "I'm running away from Roger."

"Ah," Danny smiled in triumph. "Trouble in paradise?" When his guest only gave him a blank look, he tried again. "What did that knucklehead do now?"

"It's personal," Dorothy said as she looked out the window.

"Personal? Hm… personal…" Danny mused as he poured himself a glass of wine. "Ooh! Here's a personal question! How human are you? Can you… you know… make the beast with two backs?"

"Excuse me?" She turned back to face him with an unnaturally fluid movement.

"You know, is your input port compatible with human anatomy?" Danny shrugged. "Is everything anatomically correct down there? Are you user friendly?"

"I don't understand," Dorothy protested.

"Have you and Roger… found paradise in each other's arms?" Danny queried.

"The only time he puts his arms around me is when he rescues me," Dorothy informed him.

"'When he rescues you'?" Danny laughed. "Who are you, Maid Marion? Does Roger have to rescue you a lot? What do you do, solve mysteries or something?"

"A lot of people are after my Memories," Dorothy explained. "Apparently they can restore a megadeus to life. Perhaps they are what makes _me_ alive, and not merely a machine. Megadeuses that have lost their Memories seem to seek me out."

"That… information is confidential isn't it?" Danny said thoughtfully as he sipped his wine. "If word got out that your Memories are special, your life wouldn't be worth a plugged nickel would it? You'd be in constant danger."

"I _am_ in constant danger," Dorothy insisted.

"The point is that you put a lot of trust in me with that information," Danny continued, "yet you won't tell me why you left Roger? Come on, I can keep a secret." When Dorothy just gave him an appraising look he added. "No… really, I can. I'm losing my memory. You could tell me your biggest secrets and I won't remember them later. Who can you trust if not the old and senile?"

Dorothy walked over and sat in an overstuffed chair. "Roger is losing his mind. He's afraid that he isn't really human."

"_He's_ losing his mind?" Danny's voice was indignant. "I thought _I_ was the one losing his mind here."

"For all he knows he might be just an android," Dorothy said miserably.

"Just an android?" Danny repeated as a light went on in his eyes. "Ah… I think I see where this is going…"

"He was so upset," Dorothy's voice should have been whining, but her voice was quiet and calm, as if she was reading from a script. "It was as if a part of him had died. The thought that he might be an android was repugnant to him. Repugnant. He couldn't accept that possibility that he might be… a machine…"

"I'd give anything to be a machine right now," Danny muttered.

"I assure you, it's overrated," Dorothy deadpanned.

"No really," Danny nodded. "If I was a machine I could be repaired. Get a memory swap or something like that. As it is my mind is breaking down and there's nothing I can do about it. Does Roger… have anything against machines?"

"Apparently," Dorothy looked away.

"Is it because you're not… anatomically correct?" he asked with a mischievous grin.

"I thought a gentleman doesn't ask such questions," Dorothy scolded.

"It's the uh…" he gestured at his head. "Mad cow. Not my fault. Losing my marbles. So, are you anatomically correct or not?"

"I don't see where that's any of your business," Dorothy's eyes narrowed again.

"If things don't work out with Roger, I'd like to make it my business," Danny smiled with a churlish grin. "Seriously, have you and Roger… done the nasty? Studied biology together? Engaged in the uh… _reproductive act_?"

"Roger may act like a louse, but in that regard he's been a perfect gentleman," Dorothy insisted.

"So he doesn't know does he?" Danny smiled. "'Roger-I-Can-Negotiate-My-Way-Into-Any-Woman's-Pants-Smith' doesn't know if his robot houseguest is fully functional or not, does he?"

"You're very rude," Dorothy's quiet voice was well suited to convey subtle hostility.

"My God, he must have actually _gotten to know you_!" the old man gasped. "He actually lets you live in his mansion without asking you to put out! Is this _the_ Roger Smith? What _happened_ to him?"

"This is an aspect of Roger that I didn't need to know about," Dorothy muttered.

"So you didn't know?" asked an incredulous Danny Kirk. "You had to know! If he isn't getting it from you, he has to be getting it from _somewhere_! Has he been injured? Unless… he thinks he'd be cheating on you! That's it, isn't it? His overdeveloped sense of honor wouldn't let him break the heart of a woman… No, he's broken plenty of hearts before…" The old man fixed his alert brown eyes on her. "But he won't break _yours_ will he? Why not? What makes _you_ so special?"

"I'm an android," Dorothy's flat tone held a hint of condescension.

"Ah, but not just any android," Danny insisted. "You're different. You said so yourself. Somehow deep in that metal chassis of yours you're _alive_. There's a real girl hidden in there, somewhere. So what makes you so special that 'Mister-Bury-Me-In-A-'Y'-Shaped-Coffin' is practicing abstinence?"

"I couldn't guess," Dorothy's neutral frown didn't seem so neutral.

"Maybe, for all these years Roger was just looking for the right girl," the old negotiator announced in a melodramatic whisper. "Maybe, he was searching for that special someone and didn't know it. Maybe, on an unconscious level, he realizes that you're the one and he's not looking anymore."

"On an unconscious level?" Dorothy repeated. "More like comatose."

"Love is blind," Danny shrugged knowingly. "Has he ever told you he loved you?"

"Yes, but he later went on to say that he and Norman _both_ love me," the fembot replied curtly, "like a daughter."

"Like a daughter? Got cold feet did he?" Danny smiled. "Dorothy, the thing you have to remember about men like me and Roger… the thing you have to remember is that we have this thing about independence."

"Independence?"

"Yeah, Roger and I… we're lone wolves… gay bachelors…"

Dorothy cocked her head to one side like a cat. "Gay bachelors? What do you mean by that?"

"What I mean to say," Danny sighed, "is that we've got this thing about commitment. You have to understand that an actual relationship with a woman would curtail our freedom… change us… take away our identity… the thing that makes us… Danny Kirk!"

"Roger Smith is _not_ Danny Kirk," Dorothy insisted. "I fail to see how having a relationship with a girl would diminish him."

"Are you kidding?" Danny seemed offended. "Get in a real relationship? Having every action be a vote instead of a decision? Always making compromises? What kind of a man is that?"

"A complete one," Dorothy replied. "I thought that compromise was what successful negotiation was all about."

"There's only one thing to do when you're in too deep, when you're actually falling in love with a girl," Danny declared pompously. "Spoil it somehow. It's the only way to get out while you still can. Danny Kirk."

"Are you saying that if Roger meets someone that is right for him he is _obligated_ to sabotage the relationship before he gets too connected?" Dorothy's quiet voice sounded almost… stern.

"Absolutely," Danny nodded. "If you don't the next thing you know you're sending out wedding invitations. Got to get out while there's still time. Danny Kirk."

"You're a louse, Danny Kirk," Dorothy decided.

"I do believe I've struck a nerve," Danny gloated. "Tell me, how are your living arrangements? Separate bedrooms or do you share the same bed?"

"Separate bedrooms," Dorothy replied without blinking. "I have a room to myself. He has never violated my privacy."

"Have you ever violated _his_?" Danny asked. When Dorothy didn't answer he smiled cleverly. "You really got it bad for him, don't you? Tell me, do you sit at the table with Roger or do you eat with his butler?"

"I eat with Roger," the girl replied.

"Ah… so you're a guest, not part of the staff," Danny nodded. "Interesting. So how are you two kids getting along? When he's not fretting about whether or not he's human that is?"

"Roger may be thoughtless at times, but he's nowhere as rude as you, Danny Kirk," Dorothy declared in an indignant monotone.

"So why did you leave him?" Danny shrugged, clearly having fun with her.

"I left because my presence will only put him in danger," Dorothy insisted. "He can't protect me any longer, and in any case there is no point having him sacrifice himself for someone that he considers less than human."

"Aw, did mean ol' Roger hurt little Dorothy's feelings?" Danny teased.

"I wasn't programmed to have emotions like that," Dorothy told him.

"But you have them anyway, don't you?" Danny guessed. "Well it's good that you're running away. You could be perfect for him. A control freak like Roger couldn't stand living with a flighty, irrational woman, but disciplined little thing like you could slip under the radar and doom him to a life of monogamy."

"What do you mean by that?" Dorothy asked.

"I mean that Roger is such a perfectionist that he could never let anyone as unpredictable as a woman live under the same roof as him," Danny explained. "When he's at home, everything has to fit into those neat little boxes. Yet there you are running the place and answering the phones for him. Did you see how protective he was this morning?"

"No wonder," Dorothy retorted dryly. "You play the part of lecherous pervert well, Danny Kirk."

"Indeed I do, and proud of it," Danny grinned. "So how long are you going to keep up this 'emotionless robot' façade before you let him know that there's a real woman in there?"

Dorothy didn't answer, but she slumped slightly in her chair.

"What? Afraid that he'll throw you out when he realizes you've got a crush on him?" the old man asked in mock surprise. "Roger's got a chivalrous streak a mile wide. Keep up this 'damsel in distress' act and you'll have him eating out of your hand before you know it. Danny Kirk."

* * *

At the western end of Paradigm City a line of armored vehicles and howitzers were hastily set up in the darkness. Spotlights shone out into the wasteland but only succeeded in giving away their position. Colonel Dan Dastun arrived to take charge and demanded to speak with the highest ranking officer on site.

"O'Reilly!" he grizzled officer growled as he confronted the plainclothes android inspector from the home office. "What are _you_ doing here?"

"So many high ranking officers were indicted as conspirators in the 'New Order' that I've been ordered to fill in until enough qualified officers are promoted," R Fredrick O'Reilly explained. "Not to worry, I'm fully qualified for the job."

"Never mind!" Dastun waved a dismissive gesture. "What's going on?"

"Seismic sensors have detected the movement of a megadeus approaching from the west," the android officer explained.

"Great, and we can't count on the black megadeus to fight it!" Dastun groaned. Roger better find out what happened to Big O and soon!

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: The Angry Big_


	9. The Angry Big

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Nine: The Angry Big_

Despite the months that passed after the battle between Big Fau and the Union, power was still unavailable in many neighborhoods. Paradigm City was poorly lit at night, so the skyline wasn't much to look at from Roger's rooftop patio. The young negotiator frowned as he poured himself a drink. He took a deep breath before he took a big gulp. Okay, he thought, where's Dorothy? Put yourself into her shoes. If you were Dorothy, and you ran away from home, where would you go?

"Staying home to drink your problems away, Mister Negotiator?" a familiar voice asked him from the doorway.

"Angel," Roger grunted as he turned to face her. "You're about the last person I expected to see right now. What are you doing here?"

"I'm glad to see you too," she said sarcastically as she walked out onto the patio with him. The blonde bombshell was dressed her bright pink catsuit that she wore for acrobatics or combat.

Roger's eyes got dizzy trying to study her curves and finally settled on a face that could easily be described as angelic. "Spare me," he said as he set his glass down on the small table that Norman had set up for he and Danny earlier. "You've come at the worst possible time…"

"Changing your 'no guns' policy, Roger?" Angel said as her eyes took in the large pistol that Danny had left behind.

"What? This?" Roger picked it up and looked at it before he slipped into his jacket. "Not at all. An old friend of mine dropped in today and left this. I'll return it to him the first chance I get."

"In the meantime there's something I'd like you to look at," Angel said.

Roger's eyes drifted to the zipper that descended from her neckline down to her crotch. "I admit I'm intrigued, but I've got to find a couple of robots first. Perhaps a rain check?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Roger," Angel huffed. "We'll take my car. I need to take you to a show that you don't want to miss."

* * *

Across town in Danny Kirk's penthouse apartment, the aging playboy was entertaining a sullen but winsome guest in the form of Dorothy Wayneright.

"Sometimes I wonder if Roger knows I'm alive." Dorothy was speaking literally.

"Maybe you've been playing it too careful," Danny mused. "You've been living with Roger for how long? Over a year? You must have some idea of what kind of girl he likes by _now_."

"Roger should appreciate me for who I am, not who I pretend to be," the girlish android retorted.

"Then maybe it's time you stopped pretending," the old man purred seductively. "Maybe it's time to let him know that there's a girl in there who's looking for a guy with a robot fetish."

"How do you mean?" Dorothy looked at him through the corners of her eyes.

"I mean LET YOUR FEELINGS… SHOW!" Danny rose from his chair and spread his arms as if he was on stage.

"I thought that Roger preferred women without feelings," Dorothy muttered. "They aren't 'flighty and unpredictable'."

"Look Sweetie, if you're a wallflower then even nice guys are going to walk all over you," Danny patted her shoulder has he returned to his private bar to pour himself another drink. "Honestly, if you're not careful you'll make it more effort to be nice than thoughtless. You've got to stick up for yourself once in a while."

"What do you suggest?" Dorothy's neck servos hummed as she turned her head to look at him.

"The next time Roger crosses the line, slap him in the face, that'll get his attention," Danny winked as he poured himself another glass of wine.

"Not advisable," she deadpanned. "Given my strength I'm likely to knock his teeth out. He's only human after all."

"You better work on control if you want to take him for a ride through the tunnel of love," Danny winked. "Slapping him around might be good practice."

"He'll think I'm malfunctioning," Dorothy pointed out.

"You've got to show him a different face once in a while," Danny insisted. "The problem is that he's grown accustomed to you… He used to you, _too_ used to you. You need to show him your different sides. Keep him guessing. Get him to notice you all over again. Mix it up with your hair and clothing. Wear eye glasses for a while. Put on something tight and clingy, it's not as if you've got to worry about blood circulation. And if that doesn't work, bring out the big guns!"

"The 'big guns'?" asked a skeptical Dorothy.

"Why, the 'accidental exposure' scenario of course." Danny's eyes widened as if his point should be obvious. "Find a way for Roger accidently see you in your frilly unmentionables. Or have him walk in on you while you're in the bath. Let him know what he's missing, but make sure to act _really embarrassed_. Pause long enough for him to get a good look before you pull the towel over you."

"Apparently you have a lot of time on your hands, Danny Kirk," Dorothy decided.

"That's what happens when you're semiretired," he sighed. "You got more time than you know what to do with."

"If you don't think Roger should get in a relationship, why are you giving me advice?" Dorothy asked the old man.

"I just want Roger to be happy," Danny admitted sadly. "I'm not going to be around forever and I'd like him to have someone after I'm gone." His playful side returned as he gave her a lecherous smile. "And I want to know how making love with a fembot works out. Before all my marbles go, I've got to know!"

"You expect Roger to tell you about it?" Dorothy asked.

"Naturally," Danny shrugged. "We're two valiant warriors, sharing tales of the battles we've won, the conquests we've made. There are no secrets between us. For example, last month I made love to a twenty-five-year-old girl."

"Why are you telling me?" Dorothy's monotone was perfect for conveying disgust.

"Are you kidding?" Danny asked melodramatically. "Making love to a twenty-five-year-old girl at my age? I'm telling everybody!" he laughed.

"You're incorrigible," A small smile appeared at Dorothy's lips. "You live for the day, don't you, Danny Kirk?"

"Live like there's no tomorrow, Danny Kirk," the old man nodded as if his name justified any sentence previously uttered. "You can't put off your hopes and dreams until tomorrow, because you don't know if tomorrow is going to get here. If your Memories put you in constant danger, what are you waiting for? Seize the day! If there's a target on your back anyway are you going to spend your last years in fear? Go out and do everything you've been putting off! You've got nothing to lose! You owe it to yourself, don't you?"

"Thank you, Danny," Dorothy smiled quietly. "You treat me like a person and not like a machine."

"Machines don't run away from home," Danny winked. "Only people do. I'm interested in knowing if you can make love like a machine though."

* * *

In the meantime Roger and the mysterious Angel were driving to the west side of town. "What exactly am I supposed to be seeing?" Roger demanded. His arms were crossed as he sulked in the passenger's seat of the little pink sedan.

"You'll see," Angel said out of the corner of her pouty, perfectly formed mouth. They were distracted when Roger's wristwatch began to make pinging sounds. "You better take it," she said.

Roger nodded. "Yes, Norman?" he said into his watch.

"Master Roger!" The face on his watch portrayed Norman's black and white image. "The police are reporting a megadeus approaching the west side of town! Big O hasn't returned! What should I do, sir?"

"I'll just have to wing it I guess," Roger shrugged. "Thanks Norman!" He nodded for Angel to replace the microphone to the open panel.

"Aren't you going to call that giant alter-ego of yours?" Angel asked him.

"Didn't you hear? Big O's gone missing! I can't find him!" Roger growled. "This time, we're on our own!"

"Then you're going to love this," Angel muttered as they maneuvered past a military police roadblock. The bubblegum pink car coasted to a halt as they approached the back of a row of military police portable howitzers.

Roger got out of the car and worked his way to in front of the vehicles.

"Get out of here, hotshot!" a young officer blocked his path. "I don't know how you got in here, but this area is off limits to civilians!"

"That's _got_ to be Roger Smith," Colonel Dastun's voice grumbled as he appeared with the gas masked form of R Fredrick O'Reilly in tow. "It's okay, soldier. He's with me. If he hadn't showed up, I'd have ordered him dragged here in chains. I'll take it from here. You can get back to your post."

"Yessir," the young soldier saluted and disappeared into a crowd of identical uniforms. The military policemen were tense as they looked out into the darkness. The loud thudding rumbles of a megadeus' footsteps greeted them.

"Found what you're looking for yet?" Dastun asked hopefully.

"Not yet," Roger shook his head, "and to make matters worse, Dorothy's disappeared too."

"Swell," the colonel groaned. "I just wish _this_ robot would disappear."

"Sir!" another officer shouted. "It's coming! It's here!"

"Shine your spotlights on it!" Dastun cried.

The spotlights rose to illuminate a massive, yet familiar figure. Two vaguely humanoid legs supported its barrel shaped body. The enormous arms of the megadeus were in reality massive piledrivers with huge mechanical hands instead of chisels. The head of was an impassive face that was dwarfed by the megadeus' humungous body. The megadeus' face was topped by a red crystalline crown and the top of its chest was covered by a red collar that concealed the cockpit. The megadeus approaching Paradigm City was…

"Big O?" Roger gasped in disbelief. "How?"

"The black megadeus!" Dastun gagged, "but no one's driving…"

"Orders, sir?" an officer shouted. "What are your orders, Colonel?"

Dastun gave Roger a sick look. There was no point firing at it. Big O had taken on every megadeus that came its way and won every time. Against Big O's armor, they might as well been using squirt guns. "Maybe it's just coming home…" the grizzled officer suggested lamely.

Roger was staring at the marching form of Big O. There was something… wrong with the black megadeus… something empty… It was hard to tell in the dark, but the hull of the megadeus was worn and pockmarked, as if it had spent longer than just one day in the desert. But more importantly Big O seemed… alien… a stranger… unfinished… As if it was lacking something necessary for its function.

As the black megadeus thundered forward Roger flashbacked to the nightmare he experienced earlier that day. In it, Big O had appeared to seize Roger. It intended to permanently make Roger its domineus by joining itself to the human pilot with metal cables that would merge with his spinal cord. There would be no more Big O or Roger, but an entity who was both. They would be together, forever!

"No…" Roger whispered as the terrifying revelation became clear to him. "No!" he shouted as he turned around and ran back to the car.

"Roger!" Dastun shouted. "Where are you going? We found it! The black megadeus is right there! Roger!" He turned back and lifted a megaphone to his mouth. "All units, open fire! I repeat: open fire! We've got to keep that thing out of the city!"

"Hasn't the black megadeus always fought on our side?" R Fredrick O'Reilly asked.

"Something's changed!" Dastun cried as the thunder of the guns drowned him out. "It's no use! Our rounds are just bouncing off! O'Reilly! Get Manfredi and Johnson to move their vehicles! If that thing doesn't alter course it will smash them like bugs!" He dashed over to the vehicles in question and gestured wildly. "Move! Move, you idiots, before the black megadeus turns you into paste!" He ran out of the danger zone as the portable howitzers drove away.

Pavement flew into the air as the black megadeus stomped past. One of the slower armored vehicles was kicked when it didn't get out of the way fast enough; it spun end over end before rolling to a halt. The black megadeus hadn't attacked it, though, it simply ignored it. It seemed to be ignoring everything except following the black clad negotiator who ran towards a garish pink car.

"Angel!" he cried as he got in the passenger seat. "Get us out of here!"

"Find what you were looking for?" Angel asked as the little pink car turned around and broke the speed limit heading east.

"It's Big O!" Roger cried. "It's come for me! It needs me as a domineus and its not taking 'no' for an answer this time!"

"Why, did you refuse to be its domineus earlier?" Angel asked as she stole a glance at the pursuing megadeus through her rear view mirror.

"Uh sure… I guess..." Since Ellen Waite's murder, Roger had resented his role as a domineus. In his opinion the very world meant 'slave to destiny'. This reminded him of his dream of being a homeless wanderer. When stripped of his identity he hadn't wished for his life back, he wished that the 'imaginary' memories of being the pilot of Big O would go away. Angel had appeared and taken him for a ride, offering to take him 'to where he used to come from'.

Was that what was happening now? Was that why it seemed that his life was coming apart at the seams? Did he reject Dorothy, reject Big O? Was he refusing his entire life as hallucinatory, as some kind of prison to trap him? Was that why his life was going wrong? What happens when he abandons his life altogether? Was that what happened to Schwartzwald?

"Brilliant Roger!" Angel frowned as she shook her head. "Simply brilliant! Now we got that thing behind us and there's no stopping it! What possessed you to tick off your big alter-ego in the first place?"

"Do you think now is the time?" Roger shouted over the crashing footsteps of their giant pursuer. "Just concentrate on losing it!"

"Why yes, I do actually!" Angel's voice was an octave higher than she intended. "What did you do? Why won'?"

"I don't know!" Roger cried as the street before them emptied. Was it his imagination or was Big O picking up speed. "I think that I was made to be a domineus, that it wasn't my choice to pilot Big O!"

"Big deal!" Angel shouted as the megadeus chased them block after block. Dastun's forces were following but they hadn't been any help so far. "So someone behind the scenes put you and the megadeus together, get over it!"

"You don't understand!" Roger shouted as Angel's car jumped over a construction zone. "It's not just Big O; too many things about me don't make sense! How come I eat high on the hog but never gain weight? How come I'm a master of unarmed combat but never practice? And _what_ is the _deal_ with my _eyebrows_? They look like windshield wipers or bat wings or something!"

"You're noticing your eyebrows just _now_?" the bodacious blonde asked in disbelief.

Concrete, glass, and rebar fell from the sky when Big O's shoulder hit the side of a building as it followed them down the street. Angel had to swerve to avoid colliding with the fallen debris. "Look out!" Roger cried as the car spun out of control.

While swerving out of the way Angel's car had somehow executed a perfect bootlegger's turn. After avoiding the debris the car had continued moving forward while spinning one hundred and eight degrees so the approaching megadeus was in front of them rather than behind them. Roger and Angel couldn't take their eyes off those two massive feet that thundered closer and closer, flattening everything in their path.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Stick to Your Guns_


	10. Stick to Your Guns

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual. Additional material by Chiaki J. Konaka, Translated by David Fleming / ZRO Limit_

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Ten: Stick to Your Guns_

Angel froze only for an instant. Her foot went to the gas pedal as she put the little pink car into a U-turn to get away from the black megadeus before it stepped on them. The car ran on two wheels as Roger's side of the car lifted into the air before slamming back to the ground. Roger grunted as Angel's foot hit the gas.

"Hold on!" the blonde cried as they headed up a bridge. The car broke through flimsy warning barriers before jumping an empty section that had fallen during the Union's attack on the city. A hubcap flew off a rear wheel as they landed on the other side, the wheels skidding as they flew through more plywood signs that warned the bridge was under construction.

"That was _too_ close," Roger breathed.

"Like _you _don't drive like this," Angel huffed. "Did we lose it?"

"It's still after us, but if the road stays clear we should stay ahead of it," Roger said as he looked behind him. "Poor Dastun, there's nothing he can do. For the first time, I know how he feels."

"It's your own fault you know," Angel scolded. "You were the one who drove the black megadeus away. You're the one who thinks he can't control it."

"In case you haven't noticed I _can't_ control it!" Roger growled, "and I'm not about to let that thing attach cables to my back and make me a permanent part of it, either! I'm a human being, and I'm going to stay that way!"

"Since when did you get so afraid of machines, Roger?" Angel grumbled as she swerved to get around a fleeing coupe.

"As soon as you started driving _this _one," her passenger quipped.

"Ha… ha," she sneered sarcastically. "This is getting us nowhere. I know of one machine that will be able to get you back to your senses. It's time to face your fear before your fear destroys you!"

"What are you talking about?" Roger protested. "I've faced my fear! I'm not running away! I'm not afraid of Big O!"

"_Sure_ you're not," she said as the car went over eighty miles per hour. One of the advantages of the post-Union-attack Paradigm City was that most vehicles were in the junkyard. If you could find a stretch of undamaged street and weren't afraid of breaking traffic laws you could make really good time. "Roger, most of us are afraid of getting stepped on, but you're afraid of becoming a machine. Maybe it's time you remembered that not every machine is out to get you."

"You don't know me!" Roger pouted. "You don't know what I'm afraid of! How could you possibly?"

"I know you better than you know, Roger Smith the Negotiator," Angel scolded. "I know things about you that you're afraid to ask. I know more about you than any woman has a right to." When Roger replied only by letting his jaw drop open, she tenderly added: "And I know more about being afraid than I hope you'll ever know. Please, Roger, let me help you. There are times that your idiotic optimism is what keeps me going. Let me give you the chance to be the man you choose to be."

Roger's face twitched before he allowed it to relax, then he nodded and gave her a wry smile. "Okay. I'll let you save me, but that doesn't mean I have to like it."

* * *

In Danny Kirk's penthouse apartment, Dorothy Wayneright was listening to the rumble of titanic footsteps in the distance. "It's getting closer," she said as she glanced at the curtained windows. "If you want to be spared I should go now."

"And condemn myself to years of dementia?" her quirky host snorted. "Not a chance. Better go out a hero than die a vegetable. Danny Kirk."

"Thank you for not letting me face this alone," Dorothy said as she walked over and put her arms around the stout old man. "I know that I can't show my emotions like you do, but I _am_ frightened."

"It's okay to be scared sweetie pie, Danny Kirk's here," Danny gloated as he returned her embrace. "Gee your hair smells terrific, what shampoo do you use?"

"I buy a lemon scented furniture polish to clean my skin," she said as she put her head on his shoulder.

"They put lemons in everything these days," he conceded, "'except lemonade."

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Roger growled as Angel operated the elevator. "In the movies, the idiots being chased always run up. That's real smart, running to a place where you can get trapped easier. Why are we going to Danny Kirk's place anyway?"

"It's time you faced what you're running away from," Angel insisted. "Trust me on this one."

* * *

"You have guests sir," announced an old Japanese valet.

"Thank you Sulu," he nodded, not showing the slightest embarrassment at being caught hugging a teenage girl. "Show them in."

Danny's servant disappeared seconds before Roger and Angel entered the room.

"Danny, I can't stay long but… What the hell?" Roger exclaimed. "Dorothy! What are you doing here? What are you doing with your arms around him?"

"Sh, this feels good," Danny sighed contentedly.

"Dorothy, get your hands off him!" The jealous young man pulled on the red-haired android's arm to break the embrace. "What do you think you're doing?" he shouted as she turned to face him. "That man is old enough to be your father! He's old enough to be your grandfather! Your great-grandfather!"

"I'm old but I'm not dead," the old man protested good-naturedly.

"What do you care?" Dorothy raised her voice. Combined with her icy monotone, speaking louder was an effective way to convey anger. "You wasted no time hooking up with that woman, Roger Smith! You don't need me. Why don't you and Angel be happy together, and leave me and Danny alone?"

"Still got it!" the old man nodded triumphantly. "Danny Kirk!"

"What are you talking about?" Roger snarled. "_She_ was the one who brought me to see _you_!"

"Roger if it helps we can trade up," Danny offered as he darted between the tall broad-shouldered negotiator and the short and petite android. "If you give me the blonde I'll let you have the redhead." He walked over to Angel. "What's your name, hot stuff? Love the fetish suit by the way. Shows off all your curves. I'm Danny Kirk, by the way. _The_ Danny Kirk."

"Danny, are you okay?" Angel frowned. "We met last month. You took me in when I was on the run, remember?"

"That's right, _you're_ the twenty-five-year-old!" he blushed and smiled. "Damn this Mad Cow, I'm forgetting the best moments of my life!"

Angel blushed as her hand darted to her chest.

"Ay-ay-Angel!" Roger stuttered. Blushing, he coughed into his fist. "Uh… in any case, Dorothy, you have to go home, it's not safe here and…"

"I'm sick of this!" The harshness in Dorothy's voice sounded frighteningly genuine. "Why are you bothering me? I'm only an android! What can I give you that she can't? Are Memories that precious to you? You're chained up by something you can't see – something that you're not even sure exists! Humans are such idiots!"

"Dorothy…" Roger was taken aback by the android's display of temper. "This has nothing to do with Memories. I'm just worried about you…"

"That's right!" Dorothy nodded fiercely. "There's even something wrong with me! I'm able to play the piano because I have Memories of my own! The reason my thoughts are so chaotic, that my regulatory functions are going haywire, isn't because I have a soul! It's an intolerable buffer overflow error that's being caused by the thought processes of Dorothy Wayneright, the human I was modeled after, that are lingering in my Memories! These human Memories that cause these things in me… I… I'm sick of it."

Angel's eyes were open wide. "She's…"

"I – I… I feel this way, but I can't even cry," the dainty fembot said softly as she looked at the floor.

"You poor thing," Danny cooed sympathetically. He frowned at Roger and gestured with his head for the younger man to say something.

"I'm only a human, but I think I understand what you're feeling right now," Roger said as he put a comforting arm around the distraught android. "Your feelings aren't a malfunction; they're a part of you. Maybe they used to be a part of the original Dorothy Wayneright but they're yours now and you should cherish them. They let you know you have a soul and not just a program…"

Dorothy pushed his hand off her shoulder and walked away. "Don't say such nonsense, Roger Smith," she said with her back to him. "You don't feel that way. If you did you wouldn't be horrified at the possibility that you might be an android."

"What? I'm not…"

"You are!" she growled as she turned and stomped back over to him. Her tiny white fist was clenched for good measure. "You're terrified at the thought that you might not be human. That you might be some advanced kind of android that's indistinguishable from humans! You can't stand the thought that someone could have made you, built you with his own two hands! You have to be your own person, to have created yourself out of nothing! You can't stand the thought that you might be like me! I don't need your pity, Roger Smith!"

"Roger's afraid that he might be a robot?" Danny scratched his head. "Damn this Mad Cow. Was I in the room when this came out?"

The room grew silent allowing the thundering steps of the approaching megadeus to be heard. They were like a giant clock ticking down the moments had before it was too late to make amends, before it was too late for anything. Roger ignored them as he tried to find his voice. "Dorothy… I'm sorry…"

"You say that I should be who I am, who I choose to be," Dorothy looked away and wandered over to the curtained window, "but you don't mean it. You yourself can't be who you choose to be if you discover that you were created for a different purpose. You won't accept it."

"D-Dorothy… I… I didn't mean that being an android was…" Roger stammered. "I never meant to imply that you were inferior in some way…"

Roger's apology was interrupted by a slap to the face from Dorothy's ivory white hand. It _felt_ like being hit by a piece of ivory too. Roger lost his footing and fell back against the arm of a chair before tumbling to the floor. He picked himself up and put his hand to his jaw, staring at Dorothy with unfocused eyes.

"Your lip is bleeding, Roger Smith," Dorothy said flatly as she turned to look at the curtained window again. "I guess you're human. Your problem is solved. You're not an android. No need to thank me, just go."

Roger looked at the blood on his gloved fingers and searched his feelings for something to say. "Dorothy… I… I admit that I'm afraid I'm not who I think I am, but if anyone can help me accept the possibility that I might be an android, it would be you. You've proven to me again and again that being an android doesn't make you any less of a person. Inside that mechanical shell is a lovely girl who never got a chance to find out who she is. Every complement that comes her way has been given to her creator. All this time I've been praising your father's craftsmanship because it gets too personal whenever I try to praise you.

"I love you Dorothy, but I could never admit it, not even to myself," Roger conceded. "For some reason, I feel so disconnected to this world that I can't bring myself to be a part of it. I've been harping on your mechanical nature just to put some distance between us, because we were getting too close. And now I've done too good a job at it.

"You're right, Dorothy," Roger apologized as he imposed himself between Dorothy and the window to place himself in her field of vision. "I don't want to find out that I was made in a factory or grown in a lab. I'm terrified of the possibility, but knowing that someone as wonderful as you is an android will give me the courage to face it if the time comes.

"If someone with as much heart and soul as Dorothy Wayneright is an android, then maybe it's all right if Roger Smith is too," the penitent negotiator continued. "If that's what I really am, it'll be a difficult transition, but with your help, I can accept it. You're living proof that there's no 'just' in being an android, whatever anybody thinks. I'm Roger Smith, the negotiator. That's who I chose to be, not the domineus of Big O and not an officer in the military police. That's who I am. And you are who you choose to be too."

"You were always good with words, Roger Smith," Dorothy said enigmatically, "but do you mean it? You lie to yourself all the time. How do I know you're not lying to me too?"

"Then it's time I face my fears right now!" Roger declared as he turned and opened the curtains to reveal the black megadeus in the distance getting closer. "Big O!" he shouted as he walked out onto the balcony. "If you don't think that you're complete without me, I'm willing to give myself up right now! Stop where you are and I'll let you have me!" He spread his arms wide.

The black megadeus' only reply was to continue to thunder towards him.

"Didn't you hear me?" Roger spoke into his watch. "I said that if you spare the others I'll merge with you! I'll let myself be part of a machine!"

Dorothy joined him on the balcony. "Roger…"

"I mean it, Big O!" Roger growled. "Stop right where you are or I won't be your domineus!" When the megadeus continued forward without slowing, he pulled a large pistol out of his pocket, the one that Danny had left at Roger's house that morning. "I warn you…!"

"Roger, that isn't…"

But Roger was ignoring her. "Stop right there, Big O!" he commanded as he put the barrel of the gun against his own temple. "Stop right there or I'll blow my brains out! You'll have no domineus!" he cried. "You'll be incomplete forever, is that what you want?"

"Roger that isn't Big O," Dorothy told him.

"What?" he took the pistol away from his head to stare at the girl in disbelief.

"That isn't Big O," she repeated. "That is just a megadeus that looks like Big O. Can't you tell?"

Roger blushed as he stared at the approaching megadeus. How could he be such an idiot? He'd been having dreams ever since the Ellen Waite case about there being multiple Big O's, but never once did he consider the possibility in reality. Why didn't he see it? The erosion on the megadeus' armor meant that it had been in the desert a long time, how could he mistake it for Big O? There was no way it could have gotten so weathered in just a few hours; that should have been obvious! More importantly, he always felt a kinship when he was in Big O, a feeling that was completely absent with the megadeus before him. No wonder, this megadeus was a stranger! That meant that Big O wasn't here, it had ran away just like Dorothy had. And no wonder! Roger was afraid that he was stuck with Big O forever, how did he expect the megadeus to react?

"It's after _me_, Roger," Dorothy told him. "It's after my Memories. That's why I told you to go away. There's nothing you can do anyway. You don't have Big O."

"Big… O?" Roger leaned against the balcony railing in defeat. The alien megadeus was now less than four blocks away. "Where did it go?" he moaned. "Why did I drive it away? I didn't mean to…"

"Roger, have you tried calling it?" Dorothy suggested.

"What?" his head jerked to look in her direction.

"Have you tried calling it?" Dorothy repeated. "On your watch. Have you tried calling it? Or did you just assume it wouldn't come when you call?"

"Big… O…" Roger stammered as he put his wristwatch close to his mouth. What could he say to bring it back? How could he apologize when it was his subconscious fears that drove it away in the first place? How could he convince it that he wasn't afraid anymore, that he was willing to be its pilot even if that meant being its domineus? What words could he…?

His eyes widened in realization before his mouth became a grim smile. It was so obvious! "Big! O!" he shouted. "It's Showtime!"

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Second Star to the Right_


	11. Second Star to the Right

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Eleven: Second Star to the Right_

Erupting out of the ground just in front of Danny's apartment building was the black megadeus known as Big O, the real one. Its shoulder was just about level with Danny's floor, allowing Roger to make a flying leap. He dropped Danny's pistol when he landed, allowing the firearm to slide along Big O's hull and over the side. Dorothy jumped after him and together they made it into Big O's control room when the megadeus' scarlet collar rose to obscure its face.

The enemy megadeus struck before Roger could get into the cockpit. It reached forward, grasping at them with a titanic darkly rusted hand. Big O was still standing on the prairie dog's elevating platform and staggered backward.

"Danny, run for it!" Angel cried as plaster, glass, concrete and wood flew through the room in a shower of deadly shrapnel. Danny tackled the blonde and covered her with his body. Angel screamed as the floor buckled under them as Big O's head smashed through the balcony wall.

"Ah!" Roger cried as he slid across the floor of the control room. He grabbed ahold of the side of the round cockpit that dominated the center of the room to stop himself. "Hang on Dorothy!" he shouted as he tried to climb into the central chair.

Dorothy had seized the other side and wordlessly reached out for him. As the room tilted back twenty degrees, her mouth moved at preternatural speed. She held on to the circular rim as electronic gibberish spewed from her lips. Lights on Big O's panel lit up as keys and buttons clicked.

Big O raised its arms to shield itself and succeeded in inadvertently knocking its pockmarked twin backwards. Roger used the opportunity to climb into the cockpit as Dorothy found a place to brace herself. As the circular arms of the chair enveloped him and the joysticks moved into position, a small circular screen displayed the iconic message: 'CAST IN THE NAME OF GOD YE NOT GUILTY'.

"Big O!" Roger shouted as he took the controls and lashed back at the rusty megadeus. "I know I haven't been myself, but that thing is after Dorothy and she shouldn't suffer because of my shortcomings!" Not the most profound thing he ever said, but if memory served, adrenaline had made him say many strange things while sitting in that chair. "I was a fool to doubt you! You've always played it straight with me in the past and I know that you're on my side now! Right now we've got to protect Dorothy and the others, so let's work together as one!"

Big O's rusty and pockmarked doppelganger hadn't struck at Big O, it had merely reached out to grab its occupants and had accidently knocked the other megadeus off balance. It had probably tried to grab Dorothy, but she was too quick.

Now that Big O's collar had slid back into place they were protected, and if the rusty megadeus wanted them it was going to have to get nasty. Sure enough it took a swing at them, but fortunately didn't use the humungous piston in its arm to add strength to the blow. Maybe sand and grit was blocking the mechanism or maybe without a domineus the rusty giant couldn't fight strategically. In any case, Roger was going to seize any advantage he could.

Roger swung at Big O's weathered twin and it staggered backwards. It was dark out, but the other megadeus' armor didn't look like it was in good shape. Hopefully its weaponry wasn't working either. If Roger could pull himself together he should make short work of it.

The cockpit vibrated as the other megadeus punched Big O again. "Darn it, Dorothy! What does it want?" he asked as he worked the joysticks and pedals.

"It wants my Memories," Dorothy replied calmly. "It has been left all alone and doesn't have a master. It's incomplete. When it heard me call, I felt its emptiness, its loneliness."

"Its loneliness?" Roger shuddered. He was facing Big O's fate wasn't he? This was what Big O would be if it didn't have Roger. A rusting titan with missing Memories. An unthinking threat that would have to be put down. Sure Roger had put down lots of giant robots in the past. Giant robots that Dorothy informed him were looking for their long-dead masters. Was this Big O's fate after Roger kicked off? Was he looking at Big O's future?

"Are you okay?" Danny asked the lovely blonde he was protecting with his body.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Angel nodded. "You can get off me now."

"Do I have to?" he asked mischievously.

"Oh you," Angel giggled as she pushed him off and rose to her feet. "This place is a wreck! It's not safe here! We should get out of the building while we still can!"

"_You_ go," Danny got up and brushed himself off. "There's no reason for you to stay. I'm already home."

"Danny, you can't stay here!" Angel insisted. "The structural integrity's been compromised! Your apartment might fall apart on you!"

"Go on without me," he shrugged. "I'll… catch up. I can't believe the spectacular view of the fight from up here!"

"Oh…!" Angel whined as she headed for the door. She couldn't save someone who didn't want to be saved.

Danny stared at the two similar megadeuses fighting as he idly searched his jacket pocket. He pulled out a futuristic flip-top communications device. When he opened it made a distinctive five beep noise before the old man put it against his face. "Roger? Do you read me? How you holdin' up kid?"

"Fine," Roger replied through gritted teeth as he struggled against the other megadeus. "I don't know who I am and I've driven away almost everyone I care about, but can't complain. How're you?"

"The place is a mess but I can get a great deal on a hotel," Danny shrugged as the two megadeuses exchanged blows. "But I meant against the other megadeus. Is Dorothy with you?"

"Yeah," Roger's voice came out of Danny's flip-top phone. "She made it. She's right here next to me. Do you want to talk to her?"

"Maybe I better, you look a little busy, kid," Danny conceded. "Dorothy? Can you hear me, Sweetie-pie?"

"Yes, Danny I hear you," her quiet voice responded.

"You'll have to speak up, Darling, I can barely hear you," Danny gestured at the two battling megadeuses. "It's hard to hear anything over all _this_."

"Danny aren't you frightened?" Dorothy's voice sounded almost… concerned.

"Frightened?" Danny laughed into his communicator. "Of that? Come on, Sweetheart, it's Paradigm City! If I got scared of every giant robot that tore up the place I'd have had a heart attack by now! On the contrary, it's because of huge robots wrecking buildings that I'm in such big demand to negotiate hotel prices. And speaking of negotiation…"

"Yes Danny?" Dorothy asked him.

"Big O, we may be looking at your future!" Roger's voice shouted. "I know that you feel for this creature but don't hold back! As long as it wants what you have its no friend of yours!"

"Roger could you keep it down? Dorothy and I are trying to have a conversation," Danny said sternly.

"Well excuse me, Danny; do you and Dorothy want to be alone?" Roger's sarcastic voice asked.

"I'm trying to help you," Danny insisted. "Look, that megadeus is the same model that yours is. If we can find out what it wants we can figure out how to get it to go away. That was your problem, Roger. You always responded to violence with violence. It's the soldier in you. You're just too ready to kill and destroy!"

"Look I _have_ to destroy it!" Roger insisted.

"No you don't," Danny shook his head. Roger rolled his eyes as the old negotiator's voice droned through the speakers in Big O's control room. "We don't have to kill and destroy if we don't want to, even if deep down we _are_ mindless killers. We can admit we're killers, but we can say: I Won't. Kill. _Today_. One day at a time. That's all it takes. And before you know it, your enemies don't have to kill either..."

"Danny, that thing wants Dorothy's Memories!" Roger snarled. "It wants to take Dorothy and make her a part of it!"

"Roger listen to you," Danny scolded. "Calling that megadeus a thing. No wonder your megadeus ran off like that. Deep down that guy's just like Big O, he just made some bad choices in life, that's all. Why does it want Dorothy's Memories?"

"Without its Memories, it's empty," Dorothy told him as she held on to a brace in the control room. "It's lonely. It's looking for the master it used to serve. When I called it, it fixated on me. It doesn't have a pilot like Big O does, so its loss of Memory is even worse."

"So being out there in the wasteland all these years tipped it over the edge huh?" Danny asked. "Yeah, I can relate. When you're missing a part of yourself it doesn't help to be abandoned for forty years…"

"It needs someone else to join with it to be complete," Dorothy told him.

"Join with it?" Danny asked. "As in become a part of it?"

"That's right," Roger snarled through gritted teeth. "Big Fau stole Dorothy's Memories, but it still wasn't enough! It stuck cables into the pilot's back to turn them into one entity. Big O once offered me the same fate when I was in danger of drowning but Dorothy rescued me when I turned it down! The other Big won't be happy unless someone becomes part of it… forever!"

"Forever…" Danny mused. "When your mind is fading away forever isn't that long."

"I'm not going to let that happen!" Roger declared. "Whether it's after Dorothy or after me it's not going to get either one of us!"

"Fine," Danny said into his communicator. "Tell it that it can have me."

"You?"

"Roger, like you said, I don't have that many years left," Danny shrugged. "I might not even live long enough for the Alzheimer's to destroy my mind. Face it, Roger. I'm expendable."

"You don't know what it will do to you!" Roger protested.

"Roger, you're right," the old negotiator conceded. "It's a long shot; it's a crazy idea; it almost certainly won't work. If that thing sticks cables in me and hooks itself up to my brain I'll probably spend the rest of my life as a mindless vegetable." He grinned cheekily at the flip-top phone in his hand, "but that's going to happen to me anyway, so what the Hell?"

"Forget it, Danny!" Roger snarled. "There's no way that thing will accept you…"

Dorothy spoke gibberish at hyperspeed. It was as if she was a film sped up.

Roger stared at her in amazement then realized something. "The other Big. It's not attacking anymore."

"It has accepted his offer," Dorothy announced solemnly.

"What?" Roger sputtered, "But how? Why would it?"

"Danny Kirk," his mentor's smug voice crowed through the speakers in the cockpit. "Never failed at a negotiation yet. Roger, move that overgrown junkyard of yours out of the way. I want to see my megadeus."

Roger shook his head at the floor and laughed out loud. "Still Paradigm City's top negotiator I see," he grimaced. "Couldn't stand not being the center of attention, could you?"

"Hell no," Danny's smug voice replied. "I'm Danny Kirk!"

"He is," Dorothy muttered softly. "He really is."

Roger grunted as he worked the pedals to move Big O out of the way. The other megadeus stepped forward as its collar rose to obscure its face and reveal its control room. It positioned its hand to act as a bridge, allowing Danny to move from his ruined apartment to the cockpit.

Roger shuddered and closed his eyes as eight cables emerged from the back of Danny's chair. When he looked again Danny was sitting in the cockpit with a confused look on his face. "Danny?" he called. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No, I'm fine, I'm okay," the old man mumbled. "Whatever those cables are doing, they're stimulating my nerves! They're jumpstarting my brain…"

"It's trying to take over!" Roger cried in alarm. "Concentrate Danny! You're Danny Kirk! No one can take that away from you!"

"Roger it's all right," Danny assured him. "You don't understand. It's helping me. I remember now."

"You remember all the things you forgot since the senility hit?" Roger asked hopefully.

"Not just that, Roger, I remember things from before the mass amnesia," Danny informed him. "I was… in the coast guard for a while. Then a policeman…"

"You remember?" Roger gasped. "You remember from over forty years ago?"

"I'm not from around here," Danny muttered to himself. "I wasn't born in Paradigm City. I'm from some little farm town called Riverside, Iowa… And… I remember my real name!"

"Your real name?" Roger repeated. "Who are you?"

"I'm… Danny Kirk!" his mentor gloated. "Paradigm City's top negotiator!"

Roger laughed bitterly. "As if there was ever any doubt!" He cleared his throat as he sobered up. "I really envy you, Danny. You know who you are and what you are. You're probably the only one in this city who does."

"And I know what you are too kid," Danny replied from the cockpit of his megadeus. "Don't sweat it. You got a get out of jail free card. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth."

"Danny I don't know who or what I am," Roger pleaded. "I don't know if I'm even human. For all I know I could be young forever…"

"So what?" Danny shrugged. "I can tell you from experience that getting old is overrated. Maybe you have little robots in your cells that give you the ability to repair any injury that comes your way. Maybe you were created in a lab or subject to dangerous experiments as a kid. Maybe you're just young and healthy and this is all in your head. The side effects all seem _positive_. What's so bad about that?"

"But if…"

"Roger you might have something priceless that most people would kill for," Danny told him in a fatherly tone. "If you've got everlasting health, I think you should take 'yes' for an answer. Maybe you've got the opposite of what most of us got. Most people catch something that makes them sicker, something that kills them. If you've got something that makes you stronger, something that actually _heals_ you, don't worry about it. Go with it."

"But…"

"Roger it's not all about you!" Danny laughed. "Tell you what: we can talk about it when I get back."

"Get back?" Roger repeated. "From where?"

"I'm going to find my hometown," Danny told him. "I was a navigator in the coast guard. I should be able to find my way. I just want to see if it still exists, that's all. Gotta know. You know what it's like to have some little thing from your past nagging at you, don't you?"

"Yeah," Roger nodded his head ruefully. "I guess I do. You will come back won't you? You're not just leaving to die in the wilderness or anything like that are you?"

"Not a bad way to write my final chapter," Danny mused. "'And he left this troubled world for he was too good for this sinful Earth.' How's that for a legacy?"

"Danny you don't know where you're going," Roger insisted, but it was no use. This was one negotiation he wasn't going to win, and he knew it.

"Don't worry, Big Uno knows what course to follow," Danny looked out into the night sky. "Second star to the right and straight on 'til morning. Take care of Dorothy for me, Roger. I might be some time…"

"Goodbye Danny," Roger sighed wistfully. "Take care of yourself."

The collar on Danny's megadeus closed and the robot the old man had named 'Big Uno turned to walk back to the western horizon. Roger sighed as he watched Big O's twin walk past Dastun's forces and out of the city.

"Goodbye Danny," Dorothy said as she stood next to Roger's chair.

Roger smiled and clasped the android's hand.

"Roger, that's not a real woman's hand," she said coldly.

"That's a matter of opinion," Roger smiled when she didn't pull her hand away.

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Next: Something on Your Face _


	12. Something on Your Face

_The Big O__ and all of its settings and characters are owned by Cartoon Network, Sunrise, and Bandai Visual._

THE BIG O:

ACT 30

PRICELESS

_Chapter Twelve: Something on Your Face_

The next day Roger found Dorothy on the rooftop patio, looking out at the ruined city. Scaffolding could be seen on almost every block, indicating that no matter how bad things were it was always possible to rebuild. Dorothy didn't turn around as he walked out to see her. Her back remained facing him.

"Hey," Roger greeted as he leaned on the patio wall next to her. "Didn't see you at breakfast today. You didn't wake me up this morning either. What's going on? Still mad at me?"

"Of course not," she said as she looked away from him. "You know androids don't have feelings like that."

"I'm not so sure," Roger smiled sadly. "I can think of at least _one_ exception."

"You needn't bother." She was still looking away.

"You know, I have a rule about apologies, but it seems that with you I break it all the time," Roger sighed.

"What rule is that?" Dorothy finally turned her head to look at him.

"Rule number six: Never apologize; it's a sign of weakness," he replied. "It seems that with you I break that rule more than any other."

"If you want to stop breaking it, perhaps you should stop giving yourself a reason to apologize," Dorothy suggested.

"Yeah, you're right. I should," Roger nodded, "but you could help me with that every once and a while y'know."

"How so?"

"For starters you could drop this 'emotionless android' act," Roger smirked as the wind blew on his ebony hair. "Your feelings run just as deep as everybody else's."

"How do you know?" Dorothy asked with an unblinking gaze.

"I may not be Danny Kirk, but I know women," Roger replied smugly.

"So I heard," Dorothy said without moving. "Danny made you out to be quite the ladies man."

"I'm sure he was exaggerating," Roger shrugged guiltily. "But the first thing you find out when you know everything about women is that you know absolutely nothing about women. Maybe you could give me a clue every once in a while."

"You _do_ seem quite clueless at times," Dorothy deadpanned.

"And whose fault is that?" Roger gently scolded. "After all the time we've spent together you still don't trust me enough to let me know what you're feeling. You keep it all bottled up and I have to guess. It's not my fault if I forget sometimes."

"Forget what?" Dorothy's neutral voice had an edge. "Forget that I exist?"

"You see, that's the spirit," Roger smiled. "Now I know what you're thinking. But I shouldn't have to upset you just to get a reaction out of you. It wouldn't hurt to let me in every once and a while."

"Danny Kirk treated me as a woman from the first time we met," Dorothy argued. "He didn't need reminding that I'm a person. You on the other hand, treated me as second class from the day I moved in."

"That's hardly fair," Roger frowned. "Even though I didn't ask for you to move in with me I never treated you like you were second class or anything."

"'No matter how human your piano playing sounds you're just simply imitating us,'" Dorothy quoted Roger from the first morning they spent as roommates. "'That's why no matter what you play, it has no effect on anyone and becomes pointless.'"

"_I_ said _that_?" Roger paled.

"Yes," Dorothy informed him. "That's what you said at breakfast the first time I woke you when you slept in too late. You said I was just mimicking humans. That was why I was 'so unnatural' you said. Did it ever occur to you that I was trying to do what everybody else does so that I could blend in?"

"Yeah," Roger looked away. "Later. Much later."

"You never hesitate to point out the fact that I'm an android, Roger," Dorothy said in her level tone. "Danny Kirk said his name constantly, but he was afraid that he might forget it. Is it that hard to remember that I'm an android?"

"No," Roger said automatically before he stopped and thought about the question. "Yes," he finally admitted. "It is. I guess I got in the habit of reminding myself."

"Why?" Dorothy asked pointblank. "Why do you need to remind yourself of something that you claim is obvious?"

"Not for any reason I'd like to admit," he muttered as he looked away, "not even to myself." Especially to myself, he thought.

"So? How come?" she asked with childish audacity. When he didn't answer she went on the attack. "So. You expect me to be open and easy to read while you keep your secrets. That's all right. I'm used to a double standard."

"I'll tell you," Roger grumbled, "but you probably won't respect me any more than you do now. Maybe less."

"It would be hard to respect you any less right now," Dorothy said mercilessly. "None of this would have happened if you hadn't lost confidence in yourself. You're the reason why Big O went away."

"I wasn't worthy to pilot a megadeus anymore, huh?" One of Roger's unique eyebrows arched up at her remark.

"Perhaps," Dorothy conceded. "But the real reason that Big O left was because it felt guilty."

"Guilty?" Roger blinked. "How could Big O feel guilty? What does it have to feel guilty about?"

"I don't know," Dorothy admitted. "It wouldn't tell me. Perhaps it felt responsible for your lack of resolve."

"Responsible? In what way?" Roger asked her. "And why would it feel guilty if I failed it somehow? Wouldn't it simply judge me as unworthy and leave it at that?"

"You _did_ seem to think that Big O wanted to make you a permanent part of itself," Dorothy replied. "Perhaps I am not the only robot you're having issues with."

"Left myself open for that one," Roger grumbled. "Look Danny may have exaggerated about me, but he didn't exactly lie. Before you moved in I suppose I _did_ have a cavalier attitude towards women."

"I thought you were a gentleman," the girl dryly scolded.

"I try to be," he nodded ruefully. "The thing is that having a pretty young girl like you under my roof can be quite a temptation. And it wouldn't be fair to you if I took advantage, do you understand, Dorothy?"

"So. By emphasizing the fact that I am not human, you are better able to resist taking liberties with me." Her emotionless voice was perfect for conveying disgust. "I had no idea that you had so little self-control. Do you really have point out that I'm an android to make me seem less attractive to you? You really are such a louse, Roger Smith."

"Yeah, I know," he nodded sadly. "Go ahead, indulge yourself. I suppose I deserve it. It will keep me from asking if…" His voice trailed off.

"Yes?"

"Dorothy," he said hesitantly. "I know this is none of my business, but you and Danny seemed… uh… kind of intimate with each other. When I came in, you had your arms around him…"

"So?" Was Dorothy's tone defensive? "Are you jealous, Roger Smith?"

"No!" he answered quickly before he gave a guilty laugh. "It's just that… if Angel and I hadn't barged in… If a megadeus wasn't after you…"

"I don't know," Dorothy voice rose an octave to convey sarcasm, "Danny Kirk can be _very_ charming. He may present himself as a rude, lecherous old man but I have no doubt that with enough time he could talk any_body_ into any_thing_."

"Any_thing_, huh?" Roger grumbled.

"Yes. Anything," she replied without mercy. "But I'm glad you're not jealous."

"Yeah," he muttered. "So the old man really swept you off your feet huh? Tell me, what was it about him that you found so irresistible?"

"It's quite simple, Roger," Dorothy's flat emotionless voice was almost condescending. "He treated me like a person. Even after you told him I was an android he never stopped treating me as a girl."

"He was trying to get in your pants, Dorothy," Roger pointed out.

"So? That's just the way he treats women," Dorothy should have shrugged, but she was still stingy with her body language.

"He treats women like sex objects," Roger protested.

"You treat me like an object too sometimes," Dorothy retorted.

"No I don't, I treat you like a…"

"Like a pet then," Dorothy interrupted. "Something so humanlike, so close to being a little person, but something that will never grow up and become a human being. You treat me like a child who can't develop. Something you love, but also pity." When Roger didn't have a reply, she continued. "I asked you once if you and I lost our memories and we subsequently met, would we fall in love? Eventually you said that if things were different, and I was human, we would. Why do I have to be human for us to fall in love, Roger Smith?"

"I didn't mean that I couldn't love you because you were an android, Dorothy!" Roger cried. "I simply meant that you were a…" he caught himself and stopped.

"I'm a what?" Dorothy asked without blinking. "I'm a machine? I'm a robot? I'm a wind-up doll?"

"No Dorothy, you're a minor!" Roger spread his hands in a beseeching gesture. "Don't you get it, you're a child! How long have you been online? Over a year maybe? Two at the most? How long have you been alive?"

"For all you know I could have been active for decades," Dorothy crossed her arms in an attempt to assume an arrogant pose. "My father built me in the shape of a teenage girl but I could be older than you are for all you know."

"Are you?" Roger asked her.

"Roger Smith, you know better than to ask a lady her age," Dorothy scolded.

"I doubt it," Roger shook his head. "You seem pretty young to me. Dorothy, even if I _was_ the ruthless womanizer Danny said I was I still couldn't take advantage of a two-year-old girl even if she looked like she was _thirty_! You're just too young for… You understand that don't you?"

"Is that why you insist that I wear black?" Dorothy asked him. "Is that why you dress me in such an ugly color? Is it an attempt for 'Mister-Bury-Me-In-A-'Y'-Shaped-Coffin' to make me less attractive so he can control himself?"

"Mister _What_?" Roger gasped before he nodded with a knowing smile. "I see. I can guess what's going on. You've been talking to Danny. What crazy ideas did he put in your head anyway?"

"He said that I should show you different sides of my personality," Dorothy answered. "He also said that I should stick up for myself more often."

"He doesn't know you like I do," Roger shook his head ruefully. "If he only knew the truth..."

"He also said I should 'mix it up a bit' and not be afraid to act like a stereotypical woman once and a while," she continued.

"Oh really?" Roger raised a skeptical eyebrow. "And how would you do that?"

"If you ever did something that crossed the line he suggested I slap your face," she told him. "He said that if you deserved it I should slap you often and that it would be good practice."

"Oh did he?" Roger asked sarcastically. "Thanks a lot Danny. For crying out loud, Dorothy, you split my lip! I was bleeding!"

"Don't be such a baby, Roger," she retorted. "Your mouth has healed. You can't even see a wound anymore."

"You almost knocked my teeth out!" Roger insisted.

"Don't worry about it, humans heal," Dorothy insisted. "It's androids that you have constantly repair so they don't rattle like old tin cans."

"I never said you'd rattle like an old tin can, I just want you to be healthy!" Roger protested. "You aren't being fair!"

"This world isn't fair, is it, Roger?" Dorothy said as the wind blew through her hair.

"I guess it isn't," Roger sighed, "but I'd still like to make it fair, for you anyway."

"That is very sweet of you, Roger," Dorothy conceded. "Despite your conflicted feelings towards machines and androids, I have to ask: Do you love me? Even though you feel so disconnected to this world that you can't bring yourself to be a part of it? Even though I'm an android? Do you love me anyway?"

As Roger looked into her eyes he found it hard to believe that the darling girl looking up at him wasn't flesh and blood. "D-Dorothy, of course I love you," he nervously replied. "You know that. I lose sleep worrying about you."

"Really, Roger?" Dorothy's voice sounded almost… hopeful.

"Of course," Roger nodded, "and Norman loves you too."

"Roger?" Dorothy reached her alabaster white hand out to gently grasp his chin. "Excuse me. Just a second. There's something on your face."

"What is it?"

With a quick flick of her wrist she slapped him, sending him staggering backwards clutching his chin. "Ow!"

"It's a bruise," Dorothy said calmly.

_No Side._

* * *

Dorothy and Roger sit on a large hourglass the size of a barstool. Behind them is an orange background. The sound of a piano and the duet of a man and woman singing can be heard.

_Sometimes I feel so all alone_

_Finding myself callin' your name_

_When we're apart, so far away_

_Hopin' it's me that you're thinkin' of_

_Could it be true, could it be real?_

_My heart says that you're the one._

_There's no one else, you're the only one for me._

_Yes, this time my love's the real thing._

_Never felt that love is so right._

_The world seemed such an empty place._

_We need someone we could give our all._

_Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever._

_Could it be true, could it be real?_

_My heart says that you're the one._

_There's no one else, you're the only one for me._

_Yes, this time my love's the real thing._

_Never felt that love is so right._

_The world seemed such an empty place._

_We need someone we could give our all._

_Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever._

_Never felt that love is so right._

_The world seemed such an empty place._

_We need someone we could give our all._

_Baby, it's you, we'll be together now and forever._

* * *

On a desk filled with hourglasses a phone rings. Norman's hand picks up the receiver and a sinister voice says:

_Dreams Dark and Deadly_


End file.
